My Champion
by Armbar Nation
Summary: Stephanie McMahon has fallen for Triple H. When the WWF's board of directors unexpectedly place her in charge of the company in mid 1999, how will she use and abuse her position of power to ensure that he becomes the WWF Champion?
1. Raw Is War, July 26th 1999 (Part 1)

_**Raw Is War**_

 _ **July 26th 1999**_

 _ **Part 1**_

I was in charge of the WWF, effective immediately. With that knowledge, the fact that I had made it through Monday without being physically sick, so far at least, was not just a mystery to me, frankly it was a miracle. I wasn't sure exactly what the hell had gone on in the board meeting back at the office earlier that morning, but I sure knew the outcome. I had heard of people making rash decisions in times of crisis before, but there were rash decisions and then there was pure insanity. This was definitely pure insanity. What on Earth made those guys, and my mom, think that I was ready for the kind of responsibility that they had thrown at me out of the blue?

Responsibility wasn't the only thing that they had thrown at me out of the blue either. The three guys sitting in the meeting room with me had been thrown at me too. It was bad enough having to hide away here in the back of the arena where none of the other wrestlers would see me, but having to do so with these three guys, two of whom were almost complete strangers, made the whole thing even more awkward, which was quite an achievement.

The whole mess was my dad's fault, the stupid asshole. If he hadn't gotten absorbed into the ridiculous hatred and rivalry with Stone Cold Steve Austin, none this would have been happening. I'd have been working my job in accounts back at the office, and dad would have been at the arena running the show, but no, that had all changed now.

My idiot brother Shane wasn't blameless either, far from it in fact. Neither was The Undertaker. After all, it was The Undertaker who had gone and lost the first blood match to Austin the previous night at Fully Loaded. That loss had cost my dad his job. What kind of moron did he actually have to be to put everything on the line like that?

When I'd watched the ending of that match and seen The Undertaker lose, I had naturally assumed that Shane would be left to take charge of the company, but apparently the board, in their infinite wisdom, had a _much_ better idea. It would be a much better idea to have someone who had only worked for the company for a year to do it, obviously. True, I had grown up around wrestlers all my life, but that was hardly the same thing as running the damn company.

"Don't worry, Steph," Mom had told me on the phone, like it was actually possible for me not to worry in the situation that I had been put in. "We're going to assign you three guys for protection. The Union. They'll be sure to keep you protected from The Undertaker and his Ministry, as well as from Steve Austin." The Union consisted of Ken Shamrock, Big Show and Test. I knew Kenny, and he had come to my aid in the past, but the guy was hardly stable. Big Show was built like an oak tree and seemed about as intelligent as one, and I knew nothing about Test at all. He was a big guy with a Canadian accent. That was the extent of my knowledge.

"Forgive me for not jumping for joy." That's what I should have said, but my head was spinning so much that I just found myself going along with it. There wasn't actually a choice for me anyway. Being a McMahon meant that the WWF ran your life at least as much as you could run it as a company. It was a totally shit situation, but regardless, it was the situation that I was in.

Of course, my mom had one more surprise for me before she ended the phone call from the office. "We've been trying to call Shane with the decision," she had told me. "We've been trying all morning, but his cell phone is off. He's probably somewhere with the rest of the Ministry. You're going to have to go out to the ring and tell him face to face."

"Thanks mom. What should I do after that? Drink a bottle of bleach? Shit in my hands and clap, maybe?" Again, I couldn't actually say that.

"Show's started," Test pointed out, startling me as he broke the heavy silence in the room.

I looked back at him blankly. I knew that I had to get out onto the stage to speak to Shane, but making myself actually do it seemed to be hard to do. "Come on then," I ordered them a moment later, sighing as I stood up. "I know for a fact that Shane and that bunch of freaks he spends his time with will be the first ones out there tonight." My three bodyguards, if that's what they were supposed to be, followed me out of the room and along several hallways as we headed for the Gorilla position.

My mind had wandered onto how I was actually going to break the news to Shane, but I quickly snapped back to reality when I saw Steve Austin in front of me, pacing around like a caged animal. Steve saw me at almost the same time that I saw him. There was a special look that Steve got in his eyes whenever he encountered anyone with the name McMahon, even me. He had the WWF title belt in his right hand, a fact that probably pissed my dad off as much as losing his job with his own company. It pissed me off too. The bottom line, as Steve would like to say, was that I _was_ a McMahon, and that meant that Steve Austin was the enemy, regardless of the issues I had with my dad. Blood was thicker than water. One thing I had already decided earlier in the day, after finding out that I was taking charge, was that I didn't want Austin to be the WWF champion. _My_ WWF champion. No, I had Triple H in mind for that role. I'd previously gotten to spend some brief periods of time with Hunter, but only because he was part of dad's Corporation team. There was something about him that drove me wild inside. All I had to do was look at him. He was what I considered to be the definition of what the perfect man would look like, and he also had just the kind of sense of humor that I liked. I was sure that I'd picked up on something from Hunter too. I thought that he found me attractive, but there was a problem. Hunter had some kind of relationship going on with Chyna. These were all things that I needed to think about at another time.

"Steve," I nervously greeted the current champion as I approached him.

"What are you doing here, and why are you with these guys?" Steve demanded. A fairly typical greeting by his standards.

"Uh, they're my bodyguards, I guess you could say." Very deliberately, I had only answered one of his two questions.

"The hell do you need bodyguards for?" Steve asked gruffly. "The only one who ever did anything to you around here was your old man, and his ass is gone."

It was a good point, honestly. The only time I had actually felt in danger during my time with the WWF was when I had been abducted by The Undertaker, and it had turned out that my dad had been behind faking that whole thing, not that the asshole took the trouble to inform me that it was going to happen, or that it was fake. Bastard.

"We're here to keep it that way," Shamrock told Steve, and the two men stared each other down for a long moment.

"Why are you here?" Steve asked me again, although his eyes were still locked with Ken's.

"You'll find out in a minute, along with everyone else," I assured him. "Hell, you'll probably find it amusing." It was actually true. Steve would find it very amusing to see Shane be denied the position of power that everyone assumed was going to be his. The reality was that Steve wouldn't be benefitting much from it, but he didn't know that. Yet.

"Ain't much a McMahon's gonna say that's gonna amuse Steve Austin none."

As I walked away, I wondered if that sentence actually qualified as English. My three guys managed to make it past Steve without any punches being thrown, and we walked into Gorilla. As we did so, Kevin Dunn, the show's producer, looked up at me and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Steph? What are you doing here?"

"Right now? Going out on the stage. Play my music please." I could hear that, just as I had suspected, Shane was out in the ring, running his mouth about who knew what. Austin had probably been contemplating running out there to try and kick his face in, even with the whole Ministry in the ring.

"Uh, you don't have any," Kevin faltered as I picked a microphone up from the table.

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath in frustration. Kevin was right. I'd never even made an entrance by myself before, and now I was the boss. The whole thing was so far beyond ridiculous. "Well, play my dad's music then, I don't know. I'm the boss now, so I guess it works."

"You're what?" Kevin asked, sounding like he was unsure whether I was on drugs, or if someone might have put some in his coffee.

"You heard the lady," Ken said, taking a threatening step towards Kevin. "Play the fucking music while your fingers still work."

"Really?" I sighed, looking at Ken with a look of distaste on my face. "Is there any need for that?"

"Woah! Wait a minute!" Kevin said loudly, looking down at his monitor.

I could hear that the noise of the crowd had risen too. I walked around and looked over Kevin's shoulder at the monitor. "Oh!" I exclaimed in a mixture of surprise and horror. The Ministry were beating the hell out of Shane in the ring. We might not have spoken since the abduction thing, but Shane was still my brother and I didn't want him to get hurt, not too badly anyway. A bit of a kicking might serve to put him in his place, but I didn't want him to end up in the hospital. I had no idea why his own team were attacking him, and there was no time to think about it.

"Get out there!" I ordered my three team members. Team members sounded much better than bodyguards. I guessed that I was now the leader of The Union, as well as the boss of the WWF.

"What?" Test asked, looking back at me with a dumbstruck look on his face.

If I was ever going to lead a locker room full of wrestlers, I wasn't going to do it by being timid, my dad had taught me that at least. "I said get out there!" I barked at the three men in front me and pointed at the curtain. "Get them away from my brother! Now!"

Typically, Kenny seemed to relish the chance to get involved in some violence, and he rushed through the curtain. Big Show and Test might not have been as convinced about following my order, but they jogged after Kenny anyway. I watched on the monitor as my three guys rushed the ring, with the crowd going wild in support of them. By this point, the Ministry members were already scattering and leaving through the crowd. Shane had been pretty well beaten, but I had a feeling that I was about to hurt him a lot more with the news that I had for him.

Shaking my head at the absurdity of it, I made my way through the curtain without even thinking about not having any music playing to announce my arrival. It really didn't matter right now. I had only been out in the ring a few times, and it was still daunting to be in front of so many people. At least they weren't barraging me with abuse like they always did with dad and Shane every week. I was sure that would change pretty quick when they found out that I intended to push Triple H for the title, given that they thought he was one of the biggest assholes in the company. Hunter had won a match the previous night to earn himself the number one contendership, so half of the battle was already over with.

During my walk down the entrance ramp I actually got almost no reaction at all, which led me to assume that the crowd were simply confused as to why I would be there. I did hear some whistles, presumably from sex starved teenagers. I got in the ring and walked over to Shane, who had just managed to get back to his feet. My three team members moved over to stand behind me, out of the way, but at the same time plenty close enough. Shane's suit and shirt were a mess, and he was holding a hand up to the side of his face, presumably due to a punch that he had taken from someone. "Steph?" He asked, squinting at me as though he couldn't see properly or something. I figured that he must have been knocked half senseless. "What are you doing here?" He asked me.

Silently cursing my mom and the board of directors, I raised my microphone. I had to make the announcement publicly, for obvious reasons. "Shane, I uh, there was a board meeting today, this morning. They had to discuss what happen last night, with dad. With dad gone, they had to decide who was going to take over running the company." I was finding this really difficult, and I found myself holding up a hand almost defensively. "I expected it to be you. It should have been you."

"What are you talking about?" Shane asked, slighly more alert now. "It _is_ me."

"No," I sighed, "It's not you. It's me." The crowd loved that, and cheered loudly, which only made things worse.

"You?" Shane asked incredulously.

"Me," I nodded. I tried to reach out and touch Shane in some kind of weak attempt to comfort him and soften the blow, but to my surprise he angrily brushed my arm away and started storming across the ring, trying to leave. I knew that he was hurting, but I wanted us to at least talk about it.

"Shane, just wait," I tried again, grabbing onto his arm to stop him from leaving. This time he shoved me off him even more aggressively, causing me to stumble backwards and fall on my ass. I wasn't hurt, I had just lost my balance. It was embarrassing more than anything, but Big Show, who was closest to Shane, didn't know that. Shane was lucky that he was so quick, because he only just managed to dodge past the giant of a man and roll out of the ring.

Test walked over and offered me his hand, which I used to help me get back up. That was when I heard Shane yelling at me from halfway up the entrance ramp. "That's it! I'm done! I'm done with all of it! I'm done with dad! I'm done with the Ministry! And I'm done with you, you bitch!" With that outburst, Shane turned and stormed up the ramp, heading for the back.

Quickly, I set off after him, but by the time I made it down the ring steps he had already disappeared. Kenny rolled out of the ring in front of me. "Leave him, Steph. Let him go."

"Don't tell me what to do," I blustered at him as I barged past and started up the ramp. Kenny, Test and Big Show fell in behind, and we all set off after Shane.

We rushed through the arena as fast we could, so it only took us a couple of minutes for us to reach the parking garage. I knew that was where Shane had been heading because he obviously intended to leave. When we charged into the parking garage, Shane was just opening the door to get into the limo that I had arrived in. "Shane! Wait!" I yelled, hurrying towards him.

"You want to run the damn company?" He yelled back. "Go ahead! Run it into the ground for all I care! That's exactly what you'll end up doing!" With that he got into the limo and slammed the door closed. The car sped away with a slight screech of its tyres just as I reached it.

I stood there with my eyes closed and my fists clenched, wanting to scream something obscene in frustration. "What now?" Test asked from behind me.

"How the hell should I know?" I barked as I turned and glared at him.


	2. Raw Is War, July 26th 1999 (Part 2)

_**Raw Is War**_

 _ **July 26th 1999**_

 _ **Part 2**_

My reign in charge of the WWF had started off badly to say the least, but one thing I knew was that it was important to keep calm whenever possible. Like my dad, I had a tendency to react hot headedly to things at times and let my temper take over, but I couldn't let that happen now that I was in charge. No one had bothered to tell me what my actual job title was. That was another thing that was ridiculous, but then everything about this situation was ridiculous.

To give myself some thinking time, I ordered my team members to follow me back into the building and we headed for my office. I hadn't wanted to attempt to go there earlier in case I bumped into people who might start asking awkward questions. I had wanted Shane to be the first to hear the news. A lot of good that had done me, given his reaction. My plan was to watch the first couple of matches from my office, although I was already missing the first, and use the time to think over how I was going to approach Hunter. I could hardly just walk into his locker room and say "So, I've decided that you're going to be the WWF champion," especially not with that beast of a woman Chyna in there with him. I had to be a lot more subtle than that. I didn't just want Hunter to be the champion anyway, I wanted him for myself, which meant separating him and Chyna first. I didn't know for sure if their relationship was of a romantic nature as they never showed anything like that out in the ring, but I wanted her out of the way anyway. I needed to come up with a way to make that happen. I knew that I could do it, I just needed the time to put my mind to work on it.

The plan of retreating to my office barely got off the ground however, because when we walked back into the arena, Pat Patterson and Gerry Brisco came ambling up to me. Of course, I knew my dad's two favourite stooges well, but I had forgotten about them until that moment. They would be useful people to keep around to use when I needed dirty work doing on the quiet. "Steph! Steph!" Pat gasped at me as he approached, as if my attention wasn't already on him.

"What?" I groaned, wondering what I was about to be thrown into the middle of now.

"It's the Ministry, Miss McMahon," Gerry began. Apparently he and Pat intended to continue their traits that had always bugged me so much when they talked to my dad. Pat would call him Vince, and Gerry would call him Mr. McMahon. Surely they could have managed to agree between themselves on one or the other? I dismissed the minor irritation, as Gerry was rambling on about the Ministry fighting with each other and smashing the backstage area up.

"What the hell do you think I'm going to do?" I demanded of him as we rushed along the hallway towards the sounds of violence and shouting. "You should have called security instead of coming looking for me, you idiot."

"I told you," Pat told his partner, with a smug expression on his face.

"You're both idiots," I clarified, which removed the grin from Pat's face as quickly as it had appeared.

The six of us didn't take long to reach the scene of the brawl, and I was pleased to see that it was actually in the process of being broken up by a bunch of security staff and referees. Why the Ministry would be fighting with each other I really didn't know, but I guessed that it had something to do with the fact that there was one person who was very conspicuous by his absence. The Undertaker was nowhere to be seen. Whatever had happened, it was obvious that the Ministry was no more, and that was great news for me. The last thing I needed was a group of that size rampaging around the place with an agenda different to my own. Something had gone well at last.

"Where's The Undertaker?" I yelled at a nearby referee, struggling to make myself heard over everyone else's shouting.

"Huh?" He yelled back, cupping his ear in my direction.

"The Undertaker!" I screamed back at him.

"Leaving!" He pointed back towards the parking garage, where I had just been.

I hadn't seen The Undertaker heading that way, but there would be more than one way to get there. "The hell the he is," I growled to myself in exasperation, and then turned to my three team members as well as well as the two stooges. Firstly, I addressed Kenny, Test, Patterson and Brisco. "You four stay here and help get this mess under control." I then pointed at Big Show. "You follow me."

No one questioned me, and Big Show and I set off for the parking garage once more. Although I was literally rushing from one disaster to another, I was actually enjoying myself in a way. Being the one in charge and ordering people around was giving me a sense of satisfaction that was different to anything that I had experienced before. It wasn't surprising that Shane had been so pissed off about having this opportunity taken from him when it should rightfully have been his. Still, that wasn't my problem.

I barked at Big Show, who was lumbering along behind me, "If we catch up to Undertaker, that son of bitch is not walking out on my show. No one walks out on a McMahon. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah," the giant answered, sounding about as switched on as a box of rocks.

For the second time in five minutes, we walked into the parking garage, and sure enough, The Undertaker was only just ahead of us, walking across the garage. I was surprised not to see Paul Bearer with him. I had no idea where Paul had disappeared to, and frankly, I didn't care. "Hey!" I yelled at Undertaker, who turned and glared at me, which made me regret the aggression in my voice immediately. The Undertaker definitely unnerved me. "Where do you think you're going?" I asked as I approached him.

"Wherever I want," Undertaker growled back at me, showing no respect whatsoever.

His response left me in a difficult spot. I was afraid of him, but I needed to show him that I _wasn't_ afraid of him, and that he couldn't do whatever he wanted while I was in charge. Sucking it up, I managed to say, "Not on my time you're not. Get back in there."

"You amuse me, child," Undertaker grinned at me condescendingly.

"Big Show," I said as I stepped aside, ignoring the insult, and using Show's name as an order for him to step in.

Big Show stepped up to The Undertaker, and the two huge men stared each other right in the eye for a moment. I could literally feel the tension between them. "You heard the lady," Big Show said.

The Undertaker's response surprised me. He laughed at Big Show and spoke to him as though he was pitiful. "This is what you want to do? Take orders from a McMahon. Not just from a McMahon, from _her_?"

"My job is to protect her," Show answered.

"Says who?" Undertaker asked, grinning evilly. I didn't like the sound of that at all. Undertaker continued, "You could take orders from her, or you could take them from me, and I could make you and I the most destructive force in the WWF."

"Don't listen to him!" I barked at Big Show and then turned to The Undertaker. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Undertaker ignored me and spoke to Big Show again. "It's up to you."

I had heard more than enough, and I lost my temper. "Don't listen to him!" I repeated to Big Show, yelling this time. "You're on _my_ payroll, damn it! Your ass belongs to me, and you'll do as I say!" I knew instantly that I had done exactly what I had previously told myself not to do. I had lost my cool, and it was a very stupid thing to do in these circumstances.

Big Show spun to face me and roared in my face, "I belong to no one! Get out of my face! Now!"

His reaction nearly frightened me to death. I ran back towards the entrance to the building as fast as I could, with my heart racing so fast that I thought it might burst right out of my chest. The night was a complete disaster. My new team had lasted less than an hour before I lost a member of it. I knew without looking that Big Show would now be leaving with The Undertaker, and there was nothing that I could do about it.

With everything that had gone on so far in the night, I considered it a minor miracle that nothing else went wrong before I at last reached my office. I crashed through the door and saw that Test, Kenny, Patterson and Brisco were all waiting in there for me. "You look like you've seen a ghost," Patterson said, walking over to me and trying to put an arm around me, which I irritably shrugged away. The last thing I wanted was to be touched.

"Where's Show?" Kenny asked.

"Gone," I growled, making no secret of how angry I was about it. "He left with The Undertaker, so it's just the four of us now. Five of us, I mean." I couldn't even get the number of people in the room right. I needed to sit down for a minute and get my composure back.

"Here, sit down," Test offered, getting up from the black leather couch where he had been sitting next to Kenny. At least someone wasn't completely brain dead.

I sat down, sighed, and rubbed the space between my eyes. If I wasn't careful I was going get a serious headache before the night was over. "What now?" Test asked for the second time in the night.

"Get some new lines, maybe?" I snapped at him as I glared up at him, but then I realised that this was another mistake. These guys might all be stupid, but I needed them on my side. "Sorry, Test. Gerry, get some coffee. I need to take a minute to think. Pat, get the schedule for tonight. I think some changes will need to be made."

The two old guys left the office, and thankfully, silence descended. I tried to let my mind go to work. The Undertaker and Big Show were gone, but I still had Austin to deal with, as well as my number one priority; starting work on Hunter and Chyna.

 _How do I come between Hunter and Chyna without having Hunter think that I'm a bitch for doing it, and make sure that he wins the WWF title too? Maybe I need to break this down a bit. Hunter's already the number one contender, and he's good enough to beat Austin. I should focus on getting Chyna out of the picture first. That definitely makes the most sense._

"What's that about?" Kenny asked, pointing at the TV which was set up in the corner of the office so that we could watch the show in comfort.

I glanced at the screen. It was that weird countdown which kept showing up from time to time for mo apparent reason. Countdown To The Millenium, that was what it said. The numbers at the bottom had just ticked down past fourteen days. It was the last week of July. How could it possibly be fourteen days to the new millenium?

"I have no idea," I shrugged offhandedly. "Frankly, I don't care."


	3. Raw Is War, July 26th 1999 (Part 3)

**_Raw Is War_**

 ** _July 26th 1999_**

 ** _Part 3_**

Thankfully, I had managed to spend half an hour in my office without any further disasters falling into my lap. I had used the time well, reading over the schedule for the rest of the show, as well as setting my mind to work on what I had decided to call the Chyna problem. I had nothing against the woman personally, in fact I knew nothing about her, but the fact was that she was with Hunter, and that was something that I had a big problem with. I had a crush on Hunter the likes of which I had never had towards anyone else in my life. Just seeing the guy made me feel strange inside. Chyna had to go. It was as simple as that. Reading over the schedule had given me the perfect idea to set that process in motion. The idea I'd had was so good that it was brilliant. I could even make myself look like an innocent party. If there was one thing that would be better than separating those two, it would be separating them and having them think that someone else had started the ball rolling, rather than me.

"Who's got a pen?" I asked.

"Here," Gerry said, pulling one out of his jacket pocket and holding it out to me.

"No," I said, holding the schedule out to him. "Change the main event on there for me." I told him what to put in place of what was on the sheet. There was no reason that I could think of that would lead to Hunter or Chyna recognising my handwriting, but what would be the point of taking the risk? Gerry did as I'd instructed and handed the schedule back to me.

"Throw that crap away and hand me that clipboard," I ordered Kenny, who was sitting next to me. There was a clipboard on the small table beside him, with some irrelevant paperwork attached to it. Kenny removed the paperwork, set it on the table and handed me the clipboard. I attached me copy of the schedule to it and stood to leave my office. It was a simple little prop, but it would aid me in my goal of looking flustered when I went to speak to Hunter and Chyna.

"You wait here," I told the four men in the room as I headed for the door. Judging by the look on Kenny's face as I opened the door, I could tell that he wasn't too happy about not being allowed to follow me around. It was good to have someone like him for protection should I need it, but he was, if anything, a little too protective. I could remember how he had been with his sister, Ryan, when she had briefly been employed by the WWF. All it had taken was a guy to go somewhere near Ryan and Kenny would go right off the deep end. It was a little scary to see someone get that angry. It was an important thing to bear in mind. I didn't want Kenny to ever get pissed off like that with me, that was for sure.

Two minutes later, I knocked on the locker room door which had Triple H's logo on it. "Yeah?" He answered from within, which I took as a cue to enter. The biggest task I had to accomplish as I opened the door was to not let on how I felt just to be that close to Hunter. That strange feeling that some might call butterflies started in my chest, and when our eyes met I suddenly felt totally lost for something to say.

"Stephanie," Hunter greeted me, neither warmly or coldly. Either one of those things would have given me some kind of clue as to what he thought of me, but he had given me nothing. At least the fact that he had said my name snapped me into action.

"I'm sorry to uh, interrupt," I began, trying to sound flustered and rushed off my feet as I glanced between Hunter and Chyna, who stood there with her huge arms folded across her chest and a rather unpleasant look on her face. I found myself wondering why she felt the need to wear such strange attire, especially the stupid leather gloves. Maybe she had one of those were obsessive disorders about touching things? Whatever the reason was, she sure looked weird. Dismissing the irrelevant thoughts, I held up the clipboard and the schedule slightly. "I'm sorry about the paperwork and the clipboards and everything, but, as I'm sure you can imagine, I'm in at the deep end tonight. I just wanted to make sure that you guys had been told about the main event. The way it's written on here, I wasn't sure." I looked at Hunter and Chyna as though I hoped and expected them to say that they knew what I was talking about, when of course I already knew that they had no idea.

"What are you talking about?" Hunter asked, confusion rather than hostility in his voice.

"Oh! You didn't get told then, huh? I'm really sorry. I don't know what my dad was thinking when he booked this show to be honest. He must have done it last night, and he was obviously under a lot of stress. The thing is, he's made the main event tonight for the number one contendership for the WWF title."

"What?" Hunter yelled in outrage, interrupting me. "I already won the number one contendership! I kicked The Rock's ass last night and beat him right in the middle of the ring!"

I held my free hand up defensively and tried to calm him down. "Don't yell at me Hunter, please. I know you did. I saw it. I just told you that my dad booked this, not me. The thing is that Chyna, you interfered in that match. It wasn't a clean win. I think that must be why we're in this situation."

Hunter's eyes narrowed at that, just as I'd hoped they would. His anger had been replaced by a feeling of uncertainty. "What situation? And what do you mean _we_? You make it sound like it involves all three of us?"

I shook my head a little. "The three of us? No. I'm not involved in this. It's you Hunter, and you Chyna. The thing is that, uh, you're wrestling each other tonight, and it's for the number one contendership. I guess dad figured that if Chyna wanted to be involved in it so much..."

"Come on, Steph," Hunter cut me off. The fact that he shortened my name definitely wasn't lost on me. "You can just change the match. You said yourself that you saw me beat The Rock. Just change it."

This was the weak point in my idea, but I had one thing to fall back on; bullshit. "Uh, this is embarrassing. The thing is, guys, uh, between you and I? I don't actually take over until tomorrow. You know what bureaucracy can be like. Apparently, the way it works is that dad stepped down last night, so Shane was put in charge by default this morning. Then the board meeting happened and they made the decision to put me in charge instead, but that change can't take effect until tomorrow. Don't ask me why. Technically, Shane's in charge tonight, and as you saw, he left. Sorry, but there's nothing I can do to change this."

Hunter was nothing if not cunning, so rather than starting an argument that he could clearly see would be pointless, he tried another tactic. He took a couple of steps closer to me and tried to speak calmly. "Look, you can't let this happen. Whether you're technically in charge or not, you can't let Chyna and I wrestle each other. I mean, she's just a woman. She could get hurt out there."

If I could have hand picked something for Hunter to say I couldn't have done better than that. " _Just_ a woman?" Chyna growled from behind Hunter, causing him to turn around to face her, realising his mistake. "Try me, Hunter. You don't think I can wrestle you? I'll show you. I'll go out there tonight and kick your ass."

"I don't want to see you guys arguing," I lied before Hunter could respond himself, causing him to turn back to me. "I can try and call Shane and get this changed. I doubt he'll answer his phone after what happened earlier, but I'll try if you want?"

"Don't bother," Chyna said, glaring at me, her voice still an angry growl. Hunter turned back to face her, looking like he was watching a tennis match. "You couldn't stop me from being in that main event if you tried."

Hunter started to argue with her, and within seconds they were both shouting at each other. "I'll leave you to it," I said, not that they were listening to me by that point. When I left their locker room and closed the door I was unable to prevent myself from laughing.

 _Imagine if she somehow beats him. That would really blow everything wide open, wouldn't it? If only I could make that happen somehow. I really can't though. If I send Kenny or Test down there to interfere it's hardly going to be a secret that I sent them is it? Oh well, even though Hunter's going to win, I've made a good start and I've got a week to think about what the next move should be._

I returned to my office to find fresh coffee waiting for me. Having Patterson and Brisco around was useful for that at the very least. All I had to do for the rest of the night was sit and watch the main event, hoping that somehow, against all odds, Chyna could beat Hunter. I could always make him number one contender again in the future whenever I chose to.

* * *

"You would never know that Triple H and Chyna were in a relationship," Jerry Lawler said, clearly enjoying seeing Chyna being taken down with a stiff clothesline. The main event had been a surprisingly even contest for over five minutes up to this point.

Triple H waited for Chyna to get to her feet and then attempted to whip her into the ropes, however Chyna reversed the move, sending Triple H into the ropes instead. When he hit the ropes and came back towards her, Chyna lowered her head in an attempt to deliver a back body drop, but she inadvertently set Triple H up to perform one of his signature moves. Triple H stopped running and slammed Chyna's face into his own knee, causing Chyna to collapse to the mat. "Facebuster by The Game," JR called out. Wasting no time, Triple H crawled into a cover.

One.

Two.

Chyna got a shoulder up at the last moment, but Triple H had his opponent exactly where he wanted her now as she began to struggle to her feet. "I think it's Pedigree time, JR," King announced gleefully. "Put her in her place, Triple H."

When Chyna eventually got up, Triple H kicked her in the stomach and as she bent over in pain he placed her head between his legs and bean to hook her arms behind her back. Surprisingly, at the last moment, Chyna broke her arms out of Triple H's grasp and used them to pull his legs out from underneath him, causing him to fall onto his back. Next, she grabbed both of his legs and used the leverage to catapult him into the corner of the ring. Unfortunately, referee Earl Hebner was standing in the same corner, and Triple H collided with him at full force, crushing him against the turnbuckles.

"Oh!" JR exclaimed. "Chyna launched Triple H right into Earl Hebner. The referee's down."

Triple H stumbled out of the corner, ducked under a clothesline attempt by Chyna, and delivered a textbook neck breaker to her, stopping her momentum before it could really get started. Suddenly, the noise from the crowd rose as they began cheering.

"Wait!" JR yelled a moment later, as an overweight figure wearing a tatty white dress shirt and brown pants rolled into the ring. "There's Mankind! Mankind is back! Triple H put Mankind out of action several weeks ago with a sledgehammer shot to the knee!"

The crowd were now going crazy as Triple H took a wild swing at Mankind, totally missing him. Mankind kicked Triple H in the stomach and delivered a devastating double arm DDT. "You idiot!" Lawler protested loudly. "You have no business out here!"

The cheering from the crowd intensified even further as Mankind pulled out a white sock from his pants and brandished it in the air proudly. "Mr. Socko!" JR announced.

Lawler whined, "Not the filthy, slimy, disgusting, smelly, old sock! Don't use that on Triple H!"

Mankind had pulled the sock onto his right hand and stood ready to bury it into Triple H's mouth as the current number one contender used the ropes to help him to get back to his feet. Triple H staggered into the middle of the ring and Mankind rammed the fingers of his right hand into his mouth, drawing a shriek of terror from Lawler.

Although Triple H struggled as much as he could, over the next thirty seconds he faded away into unconsciousness. Mankind removed his hand from Triple H's mouth and rolled out of the ring just as Earl Hebner began to stir. Chyna was also stirring, and began to crawl over to Triple H. "Triple H is out cold," JR said. "Chyna's going to cover him."

"No!" Lawler cried as Chyna did exactly what JR had just predicted. Joyfully, the crowd joined in with the count.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!" The crowd erupted, purely from the satisfaction of seeing the guy they hated so much getting screwed out of his number one contendership.

"Chyna did it!" JR yelled. "Chyna is the number one contender for the WWF title!"

As if to back up his words, ring announcer Tony Chimel made his announcement, "Here is your winner, and the number one contender for the World Wrestling Federation Championship, The Ninth Wonder of the World, Chyna!"

"Chyna didn't do it," Lawler whined at JR, "That idiot Mankind did it."

Chyna had already retreated from the ring, not bothering to wait for her hand to be raised, and Triple H was back on his feet in the ring, going crazy at Earl Hebner. "What a night this has been," JR said as he began to close the show. "Stephanie McMahon is now in charge of the WWF, Chyna is the number one contender for the WWF title, and Helmsley is livid!"


	4. Raw Is War, August 2nd 1999

_**Raw Is War**_

 _ **August 2nd 1999**_

Mankind. Of all the idiots who could have chosen to show up and interfere in the match I booked between Hunter and Chyna, Mankind would definitely not have been one that I would have thought of. I knew the reason why Mankind had wanted to attack Hunter though. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. Hunter had smashed Mankind's knee up with a sledgehammer a few months earlier. That didn't matter to me. Mankind didn't matter to me. What mattered to me as I stood in Gorilla waiting to go out to the ring to open the show was that Hunter had lost his number one contendership for the WWF title to Chyna. He was certain to be livid about it, and that was perfect for me and for my goal of splitting them up.

With the ridiculous amount of ear-splitting pyros out of the way, the Raw theme music "Thorn in your Eye," continued to play in the arena. How fitting because that's exactly what Chyna and Mankind were for me. But, as a McMahon, I was going to be damned if I didn't get the last laugh. I knew that J.R. and King would be introducing the show. When that was done, Kevin Dunn would play my dad's music. No, I reminded myself, it was _my_ music now. No chance in hell was certainly what Chyna had in the WWF now that I was in charge. I even had a Titantron video now too. I'd been shown a preview of it earlier in the night. It wasn't great as there wasn't much source material for them to take clips from, but it could be improved upon at a later date.

Finally, my music played. As it had the week before, the lack of response I got from the fans irritated me as I walked out onto the stage followed by Kenny and Test. I figured that it would soon change though, as my mission for the night was to ensure that Hunter got the number one contendership back from Chyna. I'd have them wrestle again and ban outside interference. No way would she beat him again in those circumstances.

Howard Finkel announced me: "Please welcome, the Acting Chairwoman of the World Wrestling Federation, Stephanie McMahon!"

I made a mental note to have Patterson speak to Finkel and advise him that the word _acting_ would not be required in his future announcements. I didn't like that, and neither would he unless he'd want to be "future-endeavored."

Test held the ring ropes open for me and I got in the ring. Kenny had entered before me and had fetched a microphone for me. "Thank you," I said as I took it from him, but that was as far as I got. Hunter's entrance music hit, taking me by surprise. I knew he would be pissed off, but I didn't think he would come out and interrupt me before I even got a word out.

The fans booed Hunter loudly as he stormed down the ramp, but all I could think of was how hot he looked when he was pissed off. He was wearing jean shorts and a black muscle shirt. He looked incredible. It was only when Kenny moved to stand slightly closer to me that the possibility of Hunter being angry with me occurred. I'd assumed that he would vent his rage at Chyna, but I could have been wrong. Maybe he was going to blame the boss instead.

Hunter had brought a microphone out with him and he wasted no time when he got in the ring. "Steph, I don't know what the deal is with you, I don't know what the deal is with your old man, and I don't really give a damn. Last week my number one contendership was stolen from me, and I want it back. I want it back now!"

I had to wait for the loud booing to die down before I could reply. I could see that Hunter was livid. His eyes burned into mine as I looked at him. I was burning for another reason, but I had to focus. I held up a hand to placate him, not that I expected it to work. "Hunter, I know how you feel. You're angry..."

"You're damn right I'm angry," he growled at me.

"I get that. I get that, okay? I told you last week, I didn't even book that match. I'm sorry that Mankind interfered, but Chyna _did_ beat you. Chyna has the number one contendership right now and there's nothing I can do about it other than..." I paused for a moment. A better idea than having them wrestle again had just dawned on me. "There's nothing I can do about it other than tell you that if you can get Chyna to agree to give you the title shot back, I'll sign off on it."

The fans booed that idea. My first reaction from them. It was hard not to smile. The urge to smile left me quickly though, because Hunter spoke directly to Chyna and the tone in his voice changed slightly, like he was talking to someone he loved. I hated that.

"You're right. I'm just blowing off a little steam here. The focus shouldn't be on me right now, it should be on the number one contender for the WWF title. The Ninth Wonder of the World, Chyna!" he exclaimed, pointing to the entrance ramp.

Hunter's music started playing again and Chyna walked to the ring. As usual, she was wearing the ridiculous looking leather outfit, gloves and all. I realised then that I'd never hated anyone as much that woman as I watched Hunter hold the ropes open for her to get in the ring. I then listened to him talk to her like she was something special. It made me feel sick to my stomach.

"Bask in your glory! This is it. You made the big time."

Chyna stood there looking like she thought she actually was somebody. She really was basking in her supposed glory. I wanted to slap her, but I just stood in the corner of the ring between Kenny and Test and let Hunter continue.

"You know, it's really an honour for me to be out here with you. You know, after everything we've been through, to finally be out here standing with you at your crowning moment, your moment of glory, I mean, it means as much to me as it does to you. It's great."

Chyna showed no reaction so far. I could only hope that the whole thing was about to blow up into a shit storm as I'd hoped.

"I mean, think of all the things we've been through all these years. I mean, everything we've done, side by side. Remember that time when you qualified for the Royal Rumble? Remember that? And we went out that night, we had the big limo and I filled it with all those flowers? Remember that? I mean the flowers were hanging out the windows and all those people were there. What a time that was, right? And then remember when uh, remember when you qualified for King of the Ring? You kicked all those guys' asses on the way up and you finally got there? Man, what a time that was. Remember I brought you that big Emerald ring? That big, huge, ring, the big, fat one? You wear that on special occasions, right? That was pretty nice. So I've always been pretty giving to you."

The talk about Hunter buying Chyna flowers and gifts actually hurt me physically as well as mentally. I wanted that to be me. I wanted those to be moments that Hunter _and I_ shared, not him and that ugly mess. One day that would be how it was. I was sure of it. I somehow managed to look on impassively as Hunter continued.

"I've always given to you, but you know what the beauty of our relationship, the beauty of all this time is? It goes both ways, you know. You've always given to me. I've always given to you. But I've never asked you for anything. Until now. I'm gonna ask you for something. I'm gonna' ask you to give me what I've busted my ass for all this time: _my_ number one contender slot."

I drew in a deep breath, but Hunter wasn't done yet.

"All I'm looking for is you and me. I've already got my stuff on. Right here in this ring, we'll have ourselves a little match. The winner is the number one contender and meets Stone Cold Steve Austin at Summerslam. What do you say?"

Predictably, the idiot fans had cheered loudly at hearing Austin's name. I shook my head slightly, but I was paying close attention to Chyna, willing her to say no to Hunter. I needed them to fight over this thing, not for her to hand over what he wanted right away. Hunter smiled at Chyna as he held his microphone towards her.

"Wait a minute now, let me think about it," she said in her hideous, nasal voice. Then she paused for a moment before sarcastically announcing, "No." The idiots cheered again, but this time I was with them.

Chyna attempted to leave the ring, and at that moment I saw the fake pleasantness disappear from Hunter's eyes. Something had snapped inside him and he grabbed Chyna's arm before she could leave the ring. When he spoke next, he had the same aggressive tone that he had towards me earlier.

"Hey! I don't know what you're trying to prove, but let's call a spade a spade here. Remember who made your ass. I did. If it wasn't for me, you would be nothing. You got that? I made you and you know God damn well I can break you! I did everything for you. I made everything about you. None of this would ever be possible without _me_! And you then bite the hand that feeds you? You turn on me?"

I had to admit that this side of Hunter frightened me a little, but he was about to get even more aggressive; and as crazy as he was becoming, his rage was incredibly sexy.

"Well, to hell with that," he growled in Chyna's face. "Listen, you ungrateful bitch!"

Some of the crowd groaned, but many of them cheered. I wasn't the only one who was struck by the ferocity in his voice.

"I'm not asking anymore! I'm taking back what's mine! You got that?"

My plan had worked perfectly. They were nose to nose and looking at each other with such anger in their eyes. I loved it.

Chyna snatched Hunter's microphone. "You give it a shot Triple H," she growled. "Frankly, you ain't got the balls to beat me."

She dropped her microphone to the canvas and I decided that was my signal to step in. I tried to hide my satisfaction. "Very well, tonight, in this very ring, there will be a number one contendership match between..."

Again I was interrupted by someone's theme music, and a huge ovation from the idiots. I recognised the music. Everyone did. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Whatever was about to happen, it wasn't going to be good.

Shawn Michaels, the Commissioner of the WWF, was here. This clown had as much decision making power as me. Why hadn't my mom and the board of directors removed him from his position? And whose bright decision was it for us to share certain responsibilities with said power? Why hadn't I thought to remind them to do so? I glared at Shawn as he made his stupid trademark stripper dance and pose up on the stage. I waited to see what kind of idiocy was going to flow from his mouth.

"Now you just wait a minute there young lady," he began patronisingly. "I might not have my boots or chaps on, but the Sheriff's back in town."

Cheering from the idiots cut him off as I felt my blood begin to boil.

"Now, the impression I'm getting from standing there in the back is that someone forgot about the good old commissioner of the World Wrestling Federation, The Heartbreak Kid, Shawn Michaels."

More cheering. Kenny urged me to calm down. I must have looked as furious as I felt.

"So, Ms. McMahon, allow me to throw my two cents in on this thing. I think the last thing you said was that tonight, 'in that very ring', we're going to have a number one contendership match. For now I won't ask why you try so hard to sound like daddy, because you're right. Tonight, there will be a number one contendership match. That match will be between you, Triple H, you, Chyna, and Mankind!"

The crowd erupted. So did Hunter, but for the opposite reason. He tore off his shirt and started going wild, yelling up at Shawn. I felt so angry, but also helpless. I couldn't change Shawn's decision, as much as I wanted to. He wasn't even done.

"Stephanie, I see Dumb and Dumber standing there either side of you. I don't know what agenda you're pushing exactly, but you're not pushing it on my watch. Tonight, in the triple threat match, there's going to be a special referee to make sure that everything stays on the up and up. That referee is going to be none other than yours truly, HBK."

He had drawn his stupid initials out and the idiots in the crowd had joined in. His music started playing and he walked off the stage. Hunter surprised me by rolling out of the ring and running up the ramp after him. Chyna glared at me and then left the ring herself, leaving me standing there feeling a little dumbfounded. That son of a bitch Michaels was going to make sure that Mankind won the number one contendership. I couldn't allow that to happen, but how could I make sure of it? I needed to get back to my office and think.

* * *

"Well, that's something at least," I said to no one in particular. Kenny, Test, Patterson and Brisco were all in the office with me and we had all just watched The Undertaker and Big Show announce that they intended to go for the tag team titles. They could have the stupid tag team titles as long as they weren't in my face or in my business. I had enough to worry about with the idiot Shawn Michaels sticking his beak into my main event and making himself the referee. At least I had managed to come up with a plan as far as that was concerned.

"Stay here," I ordered everyone in the room as I stood and made for the door. I was going to go see Hunter, and I wasn't going to do it with a bunch of people following me like they were my shadow. I already knew where Hunter's locker room was, so it didn't take me long to get there. I wanted him to prepare for the main event with as clear a head as possible. I needed him to win now that things had gone south with him and Chyna. There was nothing to say that they wouldn't try to make up, but I could cross that bridge if I came to it. I knocked on Hunter's door and waited.

"What?" He barked as he opened it, before he could even register that it was me.

I smiled, feeling my chest fluttering. "Hunter, I just..."

He cut me off. "Listen. I have nothing but bad experiences with the McMahon family. I don't know what your deal is or why you're here, and right now I honestly don't care. As far as I'm concerned..."

That was more than enough of him heading off on the wrong track, so I took my turn to cut him off. "I came here to say that I've got your back tonight, in that main event. I've got you." I flashed a smile at him, turned and walked away, as hard as it was to do.

"What the hell does that mean?" I heard him yell after me, but I pretended like I hadn't. A moment later I heard the door close, pleasingly without being slammed. That was a good sign. Maybe he was thinking that I might not be like the rest of my family and that he could trust me. I hoped that was what he was thinking.

* * *

I looked like an idiot. There was no doubt about it. I was walking towards Gorilla wearing a black Adidas tracksuit, the pants and the jacket. It was hardly the kind of thing that I was used to, but it was necessary. Hunter was lucky that I was so forward thinking to pack it. That kind of thing separated me from everyone else in the WWF. That's why _I_ was the boss.

Back in my office, I had watched Michaels enter the arena. He had clearly been thinking that he looked great in his stupid referee shirt. Then Mankind had entered. By now Chyna would be out there too and Hunter's entrance would have just started. Austin was also out there on commentary.

My timing was perfect. When I walked into Gorilla I looked at the monitor and saw Hunter doing that thing where he would spit the water. I liked that. Any second now his music would fade out. I ordered Dunn to play mine as soon as he could. I could tell that no one in the arena had expected to hear my music, and I now got some boos from the idiots. Little did they know, I'd give them a real reason to boo me soon enough. I walked quickly to the ring. All four people in there looked at me as though I had three heads, although I did detect the slightest hint of a smile from Hunter which made me think that he might have figured out what was coming.

No one bothered to get the ropes for me, but I climbed into the ring and removed my tracksuit jacket and tossed it over the ropes. The crowd booed and Michaels came marching towards me looking pissed off. Neither of those things suprised me. I was wearing a referee shirt.

"What do you think you're doing?" Michaels demanded, almost getting in my face.

"Guess what, genius? I can't remove you as the referee, but I can add myself as a second referee. Now, ring the bell."

Shawn wasn't happy to say the least, but there was nothing he could do, so he started the match. I let him do most of the work. My only reason for being there was to make sure that Hunter won. I just had to watch for a Pedigree and be there to make the count, which was something that I knew Shawn wouldn't have done. If Mankind or even Chyna looked like winning I would hit Shawn before he could count three.

Sure enough, Hunter did eventually get a Pedigree, and on Chyna too, which pleased me greatly. I got in position to make a count, but Hunter was pretty badly beaten down after going at it with Mankind for most of the match and he wasn't able to capitalise. By the time he started to move, so did Chyna. That was when I heard the crowd start cheering. There was no way that could be a good thing. When I turned to check out the reason for the cheering I had to give up any kind of impartiality that I might have pretended to show before. Mankind had the ridiculous sock puppet thing on his hand and was preparing to stick it in Chyna's mouth when she stood up. I knelt over Hunter. "Get up Hunter, for God's sake. Mankind's going to win!"

"The hell he is," Hunter growled and seemed to find some energy from somewhere. He used the ropes to help him get up.

Thankfully, when I turned around, I saw that Mankind hadn't managed to use the sock. Chyna must have reversed him somehow, but as I watched, Mankind got a double arm DDT on her. I knew that might be enough for a three count, but I also saw that Hunter was up. I willed him on as he picked up one of Chyna's legs. I knew what he was about to do. He was going to put her in a figure four leg lock.

I felt like cheering as Hunter got the submission hold locked in tight on the silly bitch. Things were happening so fast, but I just had to watch for her to tap. I saw that Mankind had stuffed the sock in her mouth. I saw her start tapping.

Overjoyed, I jumped up, gesturing wildly at the time keeper as I yelled, "Ring it! Ring it! That's it! Triple H wins!"

"Mankind wins!" I heard Michaels yell beside me. The bell rang several times.

I turned to Shawn and yelled at him, "What do you mean Mankind wins?"

"What are you talking about, Triple H wins?" He had asked me at the same time.

"Chyna tapped to Hunter!" I yelled.

"Not a chance, McMahon. She tapped to the claw."

"Bullshit!" I barked at him. I wasn't going to waste time arguing with him. I walked over to Hunter who was now standing in the middle of the ring, demanding to know what was going on. I raised his hand with one of mine and pointed to him with the other. I watched incredulously as Michaels did the same with Mankind in the corner of the ring.

Determined not to let Michaels screw me over, I headed back to the corner of the ring closest to the time keeper. Finkel was already standing close by, waiting for an order as to what to announce. "Triple H wins by submission. Announce it," I told him.

"Don't even think about it. Mankind wins." Michaels was standing beside me again.

I heard Austin yell from over by the commentary table. "Who won the damn match?"

Shawn and I were about to get into another shouting match, but senior referee Earl Hebner appeared in the ring. "This is ridiculous," he chastised both of us. "Make a decision. Who won the match?"

"Triple H!" I yelled at him. Shawn had given the opposite answer. I had no clue what was going to happen next, but Hebner took that decision away from both Shawn and myself. He went over to the corner and spoke to Finkel.

 _If you just told him to announce Mankind I'll fire your ass here and now,_ I thought.

Finkel raised his microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, this match is a draw!" The crowd booed loudly. I noticed Austin in the corner of my vision. He was swearing. Finkel continued, "Therefore, the number one contenders for the World Wrestling Federation Championship are both Mankind, and Triple H!"

I couldn't believe what I had just heard. Hebner had already left the ring and was on his way up the ramp. I went after him as quickly as I could, knowing that Michaels wouldn't be far behind me. When I got up onto the stage I wondered why the crowd was cheering. Glancing back at the ring, I saw Mankind had Hunter down on the canvas and had the sock in his mouth. Thanks to Michaels, the night hadn't gone as I had planned at all, but Hunter _was_ in the title match at Summerslam, and maybe he was done with Chyna too. I had to be happy with that.


	5. Raw Is War, August 9th 1999

_**Raw Is War**_

 _ **August 9th 1999**_

When all things were considered, my reign as Chairwoman of the WWF had started out reasonably well from my point of view. As I had hoped, I started to drive a wedge between Hunter and his ridiculous-looking, leather glove-wearing, _freak_ of a girlfriend, and at the same time I had managed to ensure Hunter kept his number one contender status for the WWF title too. True, Mankind was now also in the picture thanks to Shawn Michaels, but I had time to plan what I might do at Summerslam to give Hunter an advantage over Mankind and Austin. It wasn't that I didn't have faith that Hunter was good enough to beat those guys. Far from it. I just wanted to make sure. I wanted to be _certain_ , or as close to certain as was realistically possible in wrestling, that he would be walking out as the WWF champion. _My_ champion.

The only real negative thing that had happened so far was The Big Show deciding to quit my team, forming a new one with The Undertaker instead. It wasn't the end of the world however, because when they had shown up together the previous week they'd announced that they wanted to challenge for the tag team titles. They could compete in the tag team division for the rest of time as far as I was concerned. Right now that division simply didn't interest me. For that reason, I booked The Big Show and The Undertaker in the first match on Raw, taking on Viscera and Mideon with the winners then getting a shot at the tag team titles currently held by X-Pac and Kane. I had no doubt that the two giants would win and likely beat X-Pac and Kane too, but as long as it kept them out of my face they could go right ahead.

While I could give a damn about the victor of that match, my plan certainly didn't involve watching it from the back of my limo. Sadly, some limo companies employ drivers who fail to comprehend the task of getting to the hotel to pick up their clients _on time_ should be the _first_ priority, rather than just showing up period. As a result, watching it from the limo was what I had to do. I also had to watch a heated exchange between The Rock and Billy Gunn, the man with the most ridiculous nickname in the world: Mr. Ass. Why would anyone possibly want to go around calling themselves Mr. Ass? That was just asking for comedic roasts. Following that, there had been a hardcore match between Al Snow and The Big Bossman.

I glanced at my watch as the limo _finally_ pulled into the arena, and saw that I was nearly _an hour late._ I was boiling already, but this tipped me over the edge. The fat ass limo driver opened my door and I got out. "An hour late!" I barked at him. "I have a two hour show to run and you get me here an hour late!" He started to give some pathetic excuse for an apology, but I shouted over the top of him. "You'd better have enjoyed that drive because when I call your company tomorrow, I'll make sure it was your last! Now get my case and take it to my office!"

Venting made me feel a bit better as I stormed into the building, but screaming at people like that often caused me to develop a headache. I needed to try to keep my temper in check a bit more, but it was hard when faced with such levels of incompetence and idiocy. The _original_ plan was for me to open the show, as I rightfully should as Chairwoman, and officially announce the main event for Summerslam as well as the matches that were coming up on Raw. That hadn't happened thanks to my sorry ass chauffeur, so now that I was finally at the arena I was going out to the ring right away.

Unlike in some arenas, the walk from the parking garage to Gorilla took me less than a minute, but it did take me past Steve Blackman. He was giving an interview in relation to some rivalry or whatever else he was involved in. I didn't care about Blackman or any of his "lethal weapons." The only thing that interested me was the fact that the ring was empty and available. It was about time that _something_ went in my favor. "I'm going out there when that interview is done," I told Kevin Dunn.

"Yes ma'am."

His acknowledgement grated on me a little. Everything seemed to grate on me when I was in this kind of mood. I was too young to be called ma'am. That was more suitable for people my mom's age. "You can call me Ms. McMahon from now on, not ma'am."

Kevin nodded and hit my music. Despite the events of the previous week I still didn't get much of a reaction from the fans, but I could still hear some boos as I walked out onto the stage and down the entrance ramp. It wasn't hard to imagine that J.R. would be complaining about me on commentary. That guy always seemed to make a point of sucking up to whoever the fan's flavor of the month was: usually The Rock and Austin. It was pathetic.

During the week, WWF had hired a new ring announcer. We were not far away from launching Smackdown, which would be our second weekly show, and would broadcast on Thursday nights on UPN. Tony Chimel had been assigned to Smackdown, Howard Finkel had been assigned to Pay-Per-Views, and the new signing had been given the flagship position on Raw. What pleased me about it was that the new announcer was a woman. I hadn't met her yet, but had been informed of her background and her profile was emailed to me. I looked at her announce me while I stepped into the ring. Laura Molinaro was older than me at twenty seven. She had an American accent, but the strange pronunciation of her first name told anyone with doubt that she was Italian, as did the long black hair and dark skin. She announced confidently, but she needed to learn to smile a bit more. I decided to have someone speak to her about it.

I took Laura's microphone and got right down to business. "Last week, thanks to blatant interference and _bias_ from our _so called_ commissioner, Shawn Michaels..." I had to pause due to a loud cheer from the crowd. It seemed nonsensical to me that they felt the need to cheer the mention of someone's name, especially an egotist like Michaels.

Setting my annoyance aside, I continued. "Thanks to his bias and interference, what should have been a straight forward triple threat match to determine the number one contender for the World Wrestling Federation Championship ended in chaos and was turned into a complete shambles, with the outcome being that there are now _two_ number one contenders. Those number one contenders are: Mankind..." More stupid cheering. "And Triple H!" I naturally announced Triple H's name with much more enthusiasm than Mankind's, but of course the idiots erupted into boos.

I sighed and shook my head before moving on to the rest of my announcement. I knew that there was going to be more cheering trying to interrupt me. I decided just raise my voice and talk over it, so I wouldn't be out in the ring all night. "Therefore, at Summerslam there will be a triple threat match for the WWF Title between Mankind, Triple H, and the current World Wrestling Federation Champion, Stone Cold Steve Austin."

The crowd went berserk at Austin's name, leaving me no choice but to give them a moment. I still had to announce tonight's main event which would see Hunter taking on Mankind one on one. I knew that Hunter would want revenge over Mankind's under handed attack after the triple threat match the week before. What my champion wanted was what he was going to get.

Just when I was about to speak again I was interrupted by a strange, loud sound. It took me a couple of seconds to figure out what it was. Turning to look at the Titantron, I saw that I had guessed correctly. The sound was followed by the display of a countdown. The countdown to the millennium, apparently. The countdown had been appearing every week for a month or more, but I still hadn't figured out how we would go from 1999 to 2000 in the middle of August. Along with everyone else, I stared at the screen as the numbers ticked down.

Five seconds.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Zero.

The crowd cheered as the countdown expired. Next, what I could only describe as a musical equivalent of a drum roll began playing as lights flashed rapidly around the arena, changing colors as they did so. As the drum roll increased in pace so did the speed of the flashing lights.

The drum roll reached its crescendo and the lights went out. The crowd cheered again in the total darkness. I stood in the ring, unsure as to whether I should be anticipating or dreading what might happen next. A deafening explosion erupted from the stage along with several huge fireballs. It made me jump almost out of my skin. I nearly twisted my ankle as I was reminded of the heels on my feet. The loud explosion drew more cheers from the crowd along with gasps of surprise.

After a moment some music began to play along with a video on the Titantron. It showed several scenes of busy, brightly-lit city streets. Four words screamed out of the arena's speaker system: "Break the walls down!" Simultaneously a name appeared on the screen in massive silver letters:

JERICHO

A roar the likes of which I couldn't recall hearing before came from the crowd and nearly hit me physically. The arena's lights came back on to reveal a man with long blonde hair standing center stage. He had his back to me and his arms fully outstretched sideways, giving him what I guess he thought looked like an apparition of Christ or something. Staring at him in the ridiculously-shiny silver shirt he was wearing, he certainly didn't look like Christ to me. He looked ridiculous. He looked stupid. And he had the nerve to interrupt _me_.

The music was still playing and now had lyrics. The man had a microphone in one hand. He retracted his arm so that he could speak, or rather shout, into it. "Welcome to: Raw, Is, Jericho!" He paused for emphasis in between each of the final three words prompting the crowd to join in loudly. It seemed as if I was the only person in the arena with no clue who this guy was. Whoever he was, the interruption had seriously annoyed me. The fact that he had the temerity to use the name of _my_ show as part of some kind of lame ego trip really struck a nerve with me. I was done with this asshole before he even went any further.

The idiot started rambling. "Now when you think of the new millennium, you think of an event so gigantic that it changes the course of history. You think of a dawning of a new era. In this case, the dawning of a new era in the WWF!"

I heard some chants of "Jericho!" The idiots were really liking this guy so far. I wasn't.

 **"** Thank you! Thank you!" he said, smiling broadly at them. I thought he looked disingenuous. "And this new era is what this once proud and profitable company sorely needs. What was once a captivating, trend-setting program has now deteriorated into a clichéd, let's be honest, _boring,_ snooze fest that is in dire need of a knight in shining armor! And that's why I'm here! Chris Jericho has come to save the WWF!"

He posed again with his legs together, head down, and arms outstretched like an apparition of Christ. I glared at him. Inside I was boiling, but I was trying my best not to give him the satisfaction of reacting, no matter how much he tried to talk down my company and product in front of it's own audience.

I watched on as he began to pace around the stage. "Now let's go over the facts. Television ratings? Downward spiral. Pay-per-view buy rates? Plummeting! Mainstream acceptance? Non-existent! And reactions from the live crowds? Complete and utter silence! And I know why you're silent. You're silent because you're embarrassed to be here. And quite honestly, I'm embarrassed for you. And the reason why you're embarrassed is because of the steady stream of uninteresting, untalented, mediocre "sports-entertainers" who you're forced to cheer for and care for. No wonder you're not cheering! You could care less about every single idiot in that dressing room! And especially no one cares about this idiot standing in the ring who claims to run the place!"

He had pointed at me as he made the insult, drawing a cheer from the crowd. Before that line I'd heard some boos creeping in. I was losing the battle against my temper. I felt like I was going to explode at any second.

"You people have been lead to believe that mediocrity is excellence. Jericho is excellence! And that is why for the first time in WWF history, you have a man who can entertain you. You have a man who is good enough for you. You have a man who can make you jump up off your chairs, raise your filthy, little, fat hands in the air and scream "Go Jericho, go! Go Jericho, go! Go Jericho, go!"

By now the crowd was turning on him and booing quite loudly, which amused me. I smirked at him.

"Thank you!" He smiled at the crowd, seemingly oblivious to the reaction that he was actually getting. "The new millennium has arrived in the WWF! And now that the Y2J problem is here, this company, from the front office idiots to all the amateurs in the back, especially this one, to everybody watching tonight, will never, ever, be the same, again!"

The asshole had pointed at me _again_ as well as dragged out the words ever and again to ridiculously irritating lengths. He had actually insulted me _twice_ in front of _my_ employees and _my_ audience. I decided that enough was enough. I had to do something about this guy and fast. Making me look bad like this was unacceptable behavior from _anyone,_ especially from some new arrival who I had never even heard of. Before he could go on, I raised my microphone and cut him off. "You come out here and interrupt me Mr. Jericho, acting like you're something special, talking about saving _my_ company, the World Wrestling Federation," I had pointed at my own chest for emphasis.

"You talk down to these people, the board of directors, and my roster like you're some kind of scholarly genius? Well let me tell you something. There's a rule that everyone in the WWF knows and that is you don't cross the boss. Just like my father once said, I've got the brass to fire your ass!" I sneered at Jericho, and the crowd managed a muted cheer. Whether they liked me or not, they knew that something good was going to happen when a McMahon got serious with someone.

"Jericho, you decided to cross the boss, and there's a price to pay for that. And you're going to pay that price tonight, in this very ring. We're going to see _our savior, our new entertainer_ , in action. Chris Jericho will be taking on the team of Test, and the World's Most Dangerous Man, Ken Shamrock, in a two on one handicap match."

That announcement changed Jericho's attitude pretty quickly. Now, rather than being full of himself and blowing his own horn, he was stomping around on the stage, clearly raging about how unfair the match was. He should have realized much earlier that I didn't have to play fair because I was the boss. It would be a good way to send a message to the rest of the locker room too. If anyone back there thought that they could start taking liberties now that my dad was gone they'd just found out it would be a serious mistake. I had one more little piece of information to pass on to Jericho, who was still having a fit on the stage. I made sure to give him one of my best smiles. "Oh, and Chris? Tricks are for kids and I'm _not_ in a playing mood. Take that ridiculous-looking shirt off and get down here. Your match happens, _right now_!"

Jericho tore off his shirt and started walking down the ramp, still crying like a baby. I raised my voice so that it would be clear in the back. "Test, Shamrock, get out here. Send me a referee out here, now!"

Before Jericho got to the ring I climbed out of the opposite side. He was still mouthing at me and complaining about the match, but his complaints were falling on deaf ears. As far as I was concerned he had made his bed, so now he had to lie in it. Suddenly the idea came to me that I could enjoy the match in person rather than going to the back. I could sit on commentary and watch it from there. This company was my birth right after all. As I walked around the commentary table I heard Kenny's music hit and Jerry "The King" Lawler getting excited as he stood up to greet me. His voice got so high pitched at times. It was always good for a smile.

"Looks like the boss is going to join us, J.R.!" He offered his hand, so I accepted the gesture and shook it. J.R. half stood and offered his hand too along with a smile. I figured it wouldn't be professional to ignore him even though there was no love lost between him and any of my family, therefore I shook his hand too.

"Good to see you, Stephanie," J.R. said.

 _Typical of you, J.R. I bet you were talking me down the entire time I was out here and now when I walk over here you're all smiles and pleasantries. Don't worry though, I see through you._

I took the empty seat next to King and put on the spare headset. "Hello gentlemen. Are you ready to see a lesson be taught?" Kenny and Test had just climbed in the ring. Referee Teddy Long stopped them from teaming up against Jericho right from the start, which was such a shame.

The match didn't go the way that I had assumed it would, which annoyed me greatly. It was bad enough that J.R. kept badgering me with idiotic questions about Jericho, Summerslam, Austin, Hunter, and just about every other subject under the sun. I tensed up a bit for a few seconds at the mention of Hunter's name, but I was able to contain myself. Even King had to tell J.R. to shut up several times. Even worse was the fact that Jericho was holding his own against Kenny and Test. They were able to make fairly frequent tags, but neither of them were able to string together much offense without Jericho countering with something of his own.

"You've got to admit that this is an impressive display by Jericho," J.R. said, directing the comment at me as Jericho hit some kind of moonsault from the middle rope on Test. Luckily he was pretty beaten down himself, and wasn't able to get a cover right away. I noticed the booing from the crowd before I saw the reason for it. J.R. got there before me, looking at his monitor. "Oh come on now!" he whined. "Patterson and Brisco? What are they doing out here?"

"Probably coming to watch the match," King said, sucking up to me shamelessly. It was flattering nonetheless. Neither Patterson nor Brisco got into the ring. Instead they got onto the apron, distracting Jericho. He got up and took a swing at Patterson but failed to connect as they both dropped back to the floor just in time. Their job had been done. They would be compensated rather nicely. The distraction had been long enough for Test to tag in Kenny. Jericho turned around and walked right into Kenny who grabbed him around the waist.

"Come on now!" J.R. protested. "Belly to Belly suplex by Shamrock." Kenny delivered the move, slamming Jericho hard onto his back.

Next, Kenny let out one of his frightening, rage-filled screams and I knew at that moment that Jericho was done. It was obvious what was going to come next, therefore I decided to call it myself as Kenny locked it in. "That's the ankle lock, J.R." Jericho howled in pain, flailing around for a few seconds before admitting defeat and tapping out. "And that's what happens if you cross Stephanie McMahon. What's that phrase you use J.R.? That's a good piece of business?"

I removed my headset and stood to leave the commentary table as Kenny's music played and Laura Molinaro announced him and Test as the winners. "Good to see you King," I smiled.

As I headed around the ring to the entrance ramp I gave Jericho a sarcastic little wave, taking great pleasure in seeing the pain written all over his face as he clutched at his ankle with both hands. Kenny and Test waited for me at the bottom of the ramp, and we all walked up together. Some of the crowd were booing us, but I could care less. The night was going well so far. It was time to head back to my office for a meeting I had organised earlier in the week. WWF had a new investor and I was going to meet him for the first time. Mr. John Bradshaw Layfield was his name. Having him on-board promised to be _very_ interesting.

There had been two major concerns on my mind heading into the meeting. The first had been that my inexperience in business might show. It was obvious that Mr. Layfield would know that my previous job had been in accounts, and that I had only been put in charge of the company because the board didn't trust Shane to do it. I would have only been lying to myself to pretend otherwise. Secondly, and most importantly, I was worried I might not see eye to eye with our new investor. If he had plans to push someone other than Hunter for the WWF Title we would have had _big_ problems, but thankfully we had managed to come to an agreement on how to move forward, _and_ we finished up in time for the main event. I was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly things would be going between Mr. Layfield and I.

Mr. Layfield's driver brought a bottle of champagne from his limo to the office so we shared a glass to celebrate our new alliance, while we watched the main event between Hunter and Mankind. Naturally, I assumed that Hunter would easily put Mankind away and start to build himself some momentum heading into Summerslam, so it was a big surprise to me when I saw Mankind hit that stupid double arm DDT of his; and it was even more of a surprise when it kept Hunter down for a three count. I would have been a lot more disappointed and annoyed about it if it wasn't for the other thing that I noticed about the match: Chyna _was no_ t at ringside managing Hunter. That had been more than worth a smile on my part. Something was definitely off with those two now and that was perfect as far as I was concerned.

Raw didn't go off the air following Mankind's lame victory celebration as I'd expected it to. Instead the cameras followed Hunter as he walked up the ramp and into the back. I always paid attention when Hunter was on the screen for obvious reasons, but I had a feeling deep down inside of me that something was about to happen, so I watched the monitor intently as Hunter walked along the hallway and approached the locker rooms.

J.R. said, "I'm not sure where Helmsley is heading, King." His voice was full of scepticism. "What I am sure of is that it's been a night that he's probably going to want to forget. Not only did Mankind just beat him, but he's in the main event of Summerslam too, which we know Triple H is livid about."

"Not only that, where's Chyna, J.R.?" Lawler wondered.

Hunter stopped outside of the locker room that belong to him and Chyna. His logo and her name were both on the door. When he pushed the door and walked inside it looked to me like Hunter was ready for a shouting match of some sort. There was no chance of that though because apart from Hunter's bag and his clothes the locker room was empty. Chyna and all of her crap was nowhere to be seen. I smiled.

"Looks like Chyna left already," J.R said. I reminded myself to give him a bonus for being so good at stating the obvious.

When Hunter made the same realization as everyone else he let out a deep growling sound in frustration and ran his hands through his hair. I always thought he looked so hot when he was pissed off, and this was certainly not an exception. My attention remained on the monitor though because Hunter had left his locker room and was now heading somewhere else.

"Now where's he going?" Lawler asked. "Don't tell me he's coming back out here?"

"He's heading the wrong way if he is," J.R. replied in an attempt to be funny which didn't work. He didn't even get a smile out of me.

I glanced over at Mr. Layfield, but he just shrugged back at me. He was as clueless as the rest of us as to what was going on. On the screen I saw Hunter stop outside of another door.

 _That's my door!_

I was sure my heart stopped beating. I heard J.R. asking what Hunter was doing going to my office. There was a knock on the door. Raw went off the air as I walked across the office to the door. For the first time in my life I felt like breathing and having my heart beat were things that actually required conscious effort. I opened the door looked at Hunter. He looked at me. Neither of us said anything for a long moment. We just stared into each other's eyes. I had no idea what was going to happen, but I knew that I couldn't force myself to say anything more than, "Hunter?"

It looked like Hunter changed his mind in regard to what he was about to say before he blurted out, "Thank you."

With that he turned and quickly walked away, leaving me staring after him.

 _Breathe, Steph. Breathe. Calm down._

"What the hell was that about?" Mr. Layfield asked from inside the office. He had seen the whole thing through the open doorway. To him, the reason that I wanted Hunter to be the WWF champion certainly wasn't a mystery anymore.

Slowly, I walked back into the office and closed the door. I had to lean against it as soon as I did so. "I don't know," I replied quietly with a bit of a shrug. Hunter had only said two words, but it was what those words meant to me that made my hands start to tremble.


	6. Raw Is War, August 16th 1999

_**Raw is War**_

 ** _August 16th 1999_ **

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to another edition of Raw is War!" Jim Ross said enthusiastically as Raw went on the air. "We thank you for joining us each and every week live on the USA network. King, I have to say, what a strange time it has been in the World Wrestling Federation."

"You're absolutely right J.R.!" Jerry Lawler responded excitedly. "I mean we've been exchanging number one contenders so many times you'd think Oprah Winfrey was running the show, not Stephanie McMahon!"

"We've certainly experienced quite the bit of drama as of late. Within mere weeks, Stephanie McMahon, daughter of the _former_ Chairman of the WWF Vince McMahon, has taken control of the company for the foreseeable future. Triple H, who defeated The Rock at Fully Loaded for the number one contendership for the WWF title, lost it three weeks ago to the Ninth Wonder of the World Chyna, due to an arguable assist by Mankind…"

He was cut off by Lawler before he could finish." _Arguable?_ Are you kidding me, J.R.? It wasn't arguable! It was _blatant_. Chyna _blatantly_ screwed Triple H due to a _huge_ assist by the sock puppet-carrying moron! And I don't understand why! Helmsley seems like a charitable guy. You heard about all the gifts he gave Chyna. I don't get why she couldn't just give him his title shot back!"

"I think Chyna would take exception, King, to you implying she was given _anything_ in her WWF career, but be that as it may folks, two weeks ago, WWF Commissioner Shawn Michaels ordered both Chyna and Triple H to compete yet again for the number one contendership, but also added Mankind to the match."

"Yeah he did, and what a travesty it was," Lawler complained. "Michaels not only added Mankind to a match that our lovely Chairwoman Stephanie McMahon was ready to book, but added himself as the referee too! Stephanie tried her best to remedy the situation by co-refereeing the match with Michaels, but due to his incompetence, he obviously can't fulfil his duties as either the WWF Commissioner or as a referee!"

"And why is that exactly, King? I thought he did a damn good job calling the action."

"No he didn't!" Lawler shouted. "He dropped the ball by not seeing Chyna tap when Helmsley locked in the figure four leglock!"

"If I seem to remember correctly," Ross paused for a second as if trying to picture the events he was talking about, "Both Helmsley and Mankind seemed to have their submissions locked in on Chyna as she tapped, so it was tough call to make. I think we got a fair outcome in the end."

"You need to get yourself some glasses, J.R. because Chyna clearly tapped to Helmsley's figure four and Mankind got sloppy seconds with that smelly sock of his," Lawler said. "If Michaels had his attention focused on the _superior_ and _better-looking_ athlete," he would've made the right decision; and we'd have no triple threat match between Mankind, Helmsley and Austin for the title!"

"Superior and _better-looking_ athlete?" Ross questioned, sounding unsure if he had actual heard correctly. "King, are you focused on the action in the ring or the way Helmsley looks?"

"Don't be silly, J.R.! Of course I follow the action. Helmsley _is_ the superior athlete, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with one heterosexual man complimenting another for his attractiveness. It's called confidence, J.R. I doubt the Gentlemen's Quarterly ever gave you a call for a photo shoot!"

"King, that's a discussion for another time. Folks, I want to direct your attention to the Titantron as we take you back to the ending of last week's main event and what occurred moments later." With that, the camera shot left the announcer's desk to show the Titantron, in order to recap exactly what Jim Ross began to explain. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have no idea what went on between Helmsley and the Chairwoman of the WWF, Ms. McMahon, as we were off the air. We saw Helmsley go into his own locker oom, find it empty, and then head straight for Stephanie's office. But what I can assure you is that Helmsley has a lot more important, or at least he _should_ have, a lot more important things to be concerned about than locker rooms and offices, come this Sunday at Summerslam when he faces Mankind and Austin for the title."

I was glad when the recap finished. The tone that J.R. had used as he talked about Hunter coming to my office had clearly been an attempt to imply that something untoward had happened after the show went off the air. Rather than lose my temper, I took in a deep breath and continued to watch my monitor. Then things got worse. Chyna was shown somewhere backstage, warming up by doing squats. She was not booked in a match, but I assumed that she was likely hiding out backstage, and not in her locker room, because she was pissed at Hunter. This made me smile. He may have lost the previous week to Mankind in a grudge match, but I hadn't lost my faith in him. I never would. Although wins and losses _should_ matter to every WWF superstar, they didn't. Hunter was the exception. It didn't matter if he faced Gilberg or King Kong Bundy, Intercontinental title match, or a WWF title match, winning wasn't just everything to him. It was the _only_ thing _._ That was obviously why he was so furious after he lost, and had stormed into the locker room that he and Chyna shared. Once shared. I made a mental note of that. She wasn't there, so he came to me, a little sooner than I expected, but he'd made me tremble all the same. Watching her do her little squats made me want to hurl. It also reminded me of J.R.'s little attempt at being cute moments earlier. Who was he to insinuate what was or wasn't said, or what did or didn't happen, between Hunter and I as Raw went off air the previous week? I told Mr. Layfield, who was in my office again this week, joining me in watching the opening of the show on my monitor, that something may have to be arranged for Mr. Ross if he didn't shape up his act on commentary. I had also noted, and appreciated, King's defence of me.

Next, Chris Jericho, the new savior of the World Wrestling Federation, apparently, was shown approaching Chyna. He looked like he was just as disgusted as I was at the sight of Chyna working out her hamstrings and glutes. I had only been Acting Chairwoman for just under a month, and quite frankly I already hated them both. The beast, better known as Chyna, was a roadblock both figuratively and literally from my destiny with Hunter. She needed to go. I would've also happily seen Jericho exit the WWF just as quickly as he arrived. Whatever was about to happen didn't bother me, I just wanted them off my screen, the faster the better.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't The Ninth Wonder of The World," Jericho said smugly, focussing my attention back on the screen. "So tell me, junior, what's so wonderful about you?"

Chyna continued to squat and glared straight ahead menacingly, ignoring him.

"Oh, I see what it is. Are we upset that we lost our number one contendership for the WWF title?" Jericho asked mockingly. "You know, if you were more focused on competing against your opponents in the ring instead of germs or whatever the reason is you walk around with those ridiculous gloves on all the time, maybe you could've raised those little fingers just an inch higher from the canvas. Then you wouldn't have tapped like the muscled-up, OCD, embarrassment that you are! Then again, I hear tapping out to two guys at the same time pays well at brothels."

Chyna finally stopped squatting, grabbed Jericho by the collar of his shirt, and slammed him against the wall."You've been here what, ten minutes, Jericho?" She growled in his face with her awful, nasal voice. "The last time I saw Test and Shamrock in the ring, I was competing either in the King of The Ring or Royal Rumble, not being disciplined like a mouthy, whiny, school child on his way to the principal's office. You better watch your tone with me, or I'll be the next one to kick your ass."

I'd had enough of seeing the two idiots bickering, even though Jericho's OCD comment about Chyna's gloves did amuse me. Their conversation had also given me an idea for one of them. I snapped my finger and the stooges, Brisco and Patterson, knew exactly what I was signalling for. Brisco brought the booking sheet to me and I made him put Chyna's name down in the main event, in a two-on-one handicap match against Hunter and Mankind. I didn't even care what the original main event was supposed to have been. Chyna was available and I wanted to torture her some more. Who was going to stop me, Michaels? Mr. Layfield and I were working on that.

* * *

"Taking nothing away from the Rattlesnake, I sure don't think defending the title will be that easy this Sunday," exclaimed Jim Ross.

Surprisingly, Steve Austin, of all people, had competed in the opening match of the show. It was hard to even call it a match as it was over before it really started. It seemed like he hit the Stone Cold Stunner on the Lethal Weapon, Steve Blackman, almost before his entrance music faded out, and then it played again. Laura Molinaro, the new announcer who had been hired without anyone consulting me, was making great improvements thanks to the comments I'd made to her about her delivery and facial impressions. She made too significant of an inflection on Stone Cold's name for my liking, but I couldn't do everyone's job for them. I guessed that Blackman's weapons weren't that lethal after all.

I had never forgotten that it was Austin who saved me from being married to The Undertaker against my will, in a plot that my father orchestrated, but it turned out that he didn't do it to save _me_. He did it, according to his best buddy Jim Ross, merely because "it was the right thing to do." I wondered where Steve got off claiming to be pious? I didn't care how many mud holes he's stomped and walked dry, I didn't remember him being named Sheriff of the Morals Police. Regardless of personal differences, he worked for my dad, which meant that in theory, he worked for me. He didn't save me because "it was the right thing to do," he saved me because it was the _only_ thing to do! It was his job!

Even so, I wasn't some teenager willing to belabour a point or hold a meaningless grudge, but that had changed a few weeks ago, on Raw the night after the Fully Loaded pay-per-view, when Austin saw me heading for Gorilla and questioned my presence at the arena. " _Ain't much a McMahon's gonna' say that'll amuse Steve Austin none_." That's when things got personal. That's when Stone Cold made me the enemy. He'd had no idea why I was at the arena or for what purpose, but he'd seen fit to run his mouth at me. In any event, it was his fault that I was there. He was the one who defeated The Undertaker, exiling my father from his own company in the process. Sure, I, like most of the locker room, thought it was only natural for Shane to take over the WWF and resume all the duties my dad did. It wasn't like I asked to be given the position of Acting Chairwoman, but Austin never gave me the chance to prove myself. Hell, the way he just snarled at me so dismissively, it seemed like he didn't even respect my existence on the planet, let alone respect the fact that I was running the company. True, I had already decided that my number one objective was to take the title from him, but there was no way for him to have known that. His attitude was just apalling, period. _Well fuck you, Stone Cold_ , I thought. _Austin 3:16 may say "I just whooped your ass," but come Summerslam, Stephanie 3:16 will say, "You just lost your title." And that's the bottom line because Stephanie McMahon has the power to make it so!_

My mind began to run wild. Hunter would be the WWF Champion. He would thank me one day, in a more appropriate way, once I became Mrs. Helmsley. Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley. I liked the sound of that. SMH: Brains, Beauty, and sometimes Bitch! That would be a good slogan for me. It definitely had a certain ring to it. It would make for a great shirt too! I decided to have the merchandise department look into it.

* * *

"Well, it looks as though our Chairwoman, Stephanie McMahon, is going to be joining us on commentary," I heard J.R. saying as I approached the commentary table. The main event was moments away, and I wanted to see it first-hand. Chyna was going to get destroyed. It was going to be great.

"How are you, Steph?" J.R. asked as I picked up the spare headset and put it on. It was almost as if he was going out of his way to piss me off.

"First of all," I growled at him as I sat down, "It's Ms. McMahon to you. You work for me, we're not friends. And secondly, I'm here to witness in person two of the competitors from this Sunday's main event in action. I want to see if either of them have what it takes to win the WWF Championship from Stone Cold Steve Austin."

"You don't have to answer any of that idiot's questions, Stephanie," Lawler said, shamelessly sucking up as usual. "I respect authority and more importantly I am aware of your many talents. You can referee matches. You can do commentary. Hell, you run the company!"

"Thank you, King."

Chyna, Triple H and Mankind all made their entrances and began the match. Seeing two of the three people involved in a Raw main event looking so ridiculous grated on me. "Why is my roster full of glove and mask-wearing freaks?" I moaned to no one in particular. "Did I miss the memo that Raw is War is a recurring, weekly Halloween special?"

Hunter and Mankind certainly weren't friends. There was no alliance between them either. Hell, I'd heard that Hunter had a pretty good swing at Mankind's skull with a scepter when he won King of The Ring a couple of years earlier. But tonight, as the match progressed, they were working like a cohesive unit, a well-oiled machine as J.R. would probably say.

Hunter grabbed Chyna's wrist and whipped her into the ropes as Mankind tapped his shoulder for a blind tag. As Chyna bounced off the ropes and returned to Hunter, he gathered her by her waist, dropping her crotch first on his thigh for an atomic drop, while Mankind followed up with a clothesline. Mankind then began to choke her with his bare hands. Why he needed a disgusting sock on his hand to do a similar manoeuvre as a finish, I'd never understand. As Mankind choked Chyna, she attempted to reach the bottom rope with her leg to get the referee to force a break. Hunter, who had stepped through the ropes to wait in the corner, noticed this and wisely pulled the rope away from her, making it impossible for her to reach it.

Even though I'd only been in the job three and half weeks, even I knew that what Mankind was doing was dumb because rear naked chokes are not allowed in the WWF. Luckily, the referee didn't seem to have spotted the move correctly and didn't try to stop him. Mankind should have been disqualified, but I didn't care. I just wanted that bitch Chyna to suffer.

All of a sudden the well-oiled machine went straight to hell as Mankind went for a cover on Chyna. Hunter entered the ring and pulled him off of her with the count only at one. I was confused. The man was thanking me last week, and now he was saving Chyna, who I hoped was his ex-girlfriend, from defeat? It didn't take me long to figure out why though.

"Helmsley just grabbed Mankind's foot, pulling him off of Chyna!" Ross shouted beside me. "Why would he do that? He and Mankind could've had the victory right there."

"Oh come on, it's obvious, J.R," King stated rather matter-of-factly. "He's upset. Not only did she not give him his title shot back that he beat The Rock for fair and square, but she didn't show up at ringside for his match against Mankind last week, or stick around in the locker room afterwards. He obviously wants to be the one who beats her to teach her a lesson."

J.R. said, "Well, that sure puts a new meaning to the words 'tough love,' assuming there's any love between Helmsley and Chyna at all at this point."

I liked that. Of course there was no love between them.

Hunter and Mankind began to angrily exchange words. I couldn't make out what they were saying thanks to the crowd, but given that they looked ready to start trading blows with each other instead of concentrating on Chyna, I imagined that they weren't exchanging addresses for Christmas cards. By this point, Chyna had begun to crawl on her knees, recovering from Mankind's choke and the previous onslaught that she had suffered from both men. Taking them totally by surprise, she delivered a double low blow to both of them. I could care less about the mask-wearing freak show, but I definitely didn't appreciate the shemale monster altering my Hunter's chances to procreate. Of course, the referee conveniently didn't see it. With that and his failure to call the blatant choke that Manind had used earlier, I wondered if the WWF had opened a referee school for the blind.

"I'm not sure it was Chyna's plan for Helmsley and Mankind to go to war with each other six days before Summerslam King, but she's certainly taking advantage of it now," Ross said.

"That sure is an innovative form of birth control," King added. "Oh no! Double-armed DDT on Helmsley! Shades of the great Jake 'The Snake' Roberts. That's two weeks in a row now!"

Time seemed to slow right down to me. Instinct was telling me what was going to happen next, and I didn't want to see it. Somehow, I couldn't stop myself looking anyway.

"Chyna's up, Chyna's up!" Ross exclaimed beside me. "Kick to the mid-section, and pedigree! Pedigree on Mankind, and she kicks him out of the ring. Why didn't she just cover him?" Ross continued as the crowd exploded when they realized she was headed for Hunter, who was still out cold in the middle of the ring from Mankind's DDT. "One, Two, Three! That's it, it's over."

The crowd went wild. I couldn't believe what I had just seen. Not only had Hunter been pinned by Chyna for the second time in three weeks, he had also fallen victim to Mankind's double-armed DDT again. Chyna had quickly bailed from the ring and Mankind was still down on the outside as Hunter grabbed the ropes for leverage to pick himself up, before kicking them repeatedly in frustration. _I know baby,_ I thought. _We'll get through it_.

At that moment, I nearly jumped out of my chair as the familiar sound of exploding glass filled the arena. The idiots in the crowd exploded almost as loudly.

"Stone Cold is here!" J.R. screamed, marking out for his favourite as usual."We already saw him take on and beat Steve Blackman tonight, in what quite frankly wasn't the match of the year."

"Match of the year, J.R.?" Lawler questioned. "I don't think Austin would even consider that a workout! He's got another thing coming if he thinks running through Triple H, or that overweight, sock-stuffing, idiot this Sunday will be that easy!"

"What's he doing out here?" I snarled,feeling my nostrils curling up in anger. Stone Cold entered the ring and Hunter immediately took a swing at him, missing widly. Along with everyone else in the building, I knew what was going to come next. Austin kicked Hunter in the stomach and then hit him with the Stunner. The crowd roared so loud that it felt like the roof would blow off the place. The Bionic Redneck then gestured for the time keeper to toss him a few beers as he celebrated, with the idiots cheering him as he stood up on the turnbuckles in each corner of the ring, pouring beer over himself and everything else in sight. "Hell no!" I exploded, unable to contain myself any longer. "I'll be dammed if he ruins _my_ main event. This is my show! I'm going to give him a piece of my mind!"

"No, Stephanie, I don't exactly think that's a good idea," Lawler said, sounding panicked, but before he could continue I had already pulled my headset off and headed for the ring to confront Austin. I snatched a microphone from Molinaro on my way past her.

"Just what in the hell do you think you're doing on _my time_ and in _my ring_?" I growled at Austin when I got in the ring, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

Austin had just climbed down from the turnbuckles. He stood there and studied me for a few seconds, beer dripping from his chin onto his chest. I didn't like the gleam in his eyes. "This," he said smugly. Before I could react, he poured an already opened but full can of beer over my head. He laughed in my face as the dark liquid drenched my hair, streamed down my face and onto my suit jacket, which was instantly ruined. I wanted to fire him on the spot, but we had a championship match in six days at Summerslam. I wanted to slap him, but I was in shock, and felt unable to do anything. I remained in the same position, and so did he, grinning at me covered in beer. My clothes were ruined. My main event was ruined. I was cold. I was wet. I was frozen. I was vulnerable. That's when the unthinkable happened. I felt Austin kick me in the stomach and then my neck was being pulled downwards and driven into Austin's shoulder. I hit the canvas. _This must be what the Stone Cold Stunner feels like_ , I thought as I lay there on my back, looking up at the lights. I had never felt pain like it. Everything faded to black as I lost consciousness.

* * *

When I awoke, I had no idea how long I had been lying in the ring for. The show had clearly gone off the air, that much was obvious. I saw that the stooges, Test and Kenny had rushed to the ring to check on me. They helped me to the back, asking me a few meaningless questions along the way. I couldn't focus on the answers I was giving them. Test suggested that I should take a shower and head home right away. I assured them all that I was going to be fine. My clothes were a mess and I reeked of beer, but the Stunner hadn't done me as much damage as I had feared. I decided not to leave the arena right away. Instead, I dismissed my team and made a few private phone calls, as I had to assure my plans for Summerslam remained intact.

Eventually, it was time to head back to the hotel. I knew that my driver had already arranged for my bags to be packed into the limo at the start of the main event. As I walked out of my office I bumped into a familiar, charming, face. I wasn't surprised that he was still in the building. It was late, but he had a reputation for being the first to arrive and the last to leave. Whatever the heat the locker room had with him was about, I didn't get it. Even if he hadn't been so gorgeous, his dedication to the business and his body alone was incredibly sexy. Hunter was standing outside of my office.

Those familiar butterflies started to race back, as did the trembling. This was starting to get out of hand. I wanted him to know I was interested, but I didn't want to come off desperate or giddy like a schoolgirl. I just couldn't seem to help it when I was around him. He made me feel like my heart was going a mile a minute. I had to assume that he had been about to knock on my door, but I didn't know why. He hadn't said anything and I felt lost for words. We stared into each other's eyes for a moment before I finally blurted out, "Good luck on Sunday."

"Thanks Steph," he replied. "But I don't need luck to beat Mankind and Austin's asses."

"Yeah well," I started. His confidence in his ability was such a turn-on and gave me the courage to do something daring. I leaned up and kissed his cheek. "You may not be a gambler. But there's some lady's luck. You know, just in case." He didn't comment but gave me one of those infamous smirks that I loved so much. I grinned back and then made my exit. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked away. One thing was for certain: The attraction was most definitely mutual.


	7. Summerslam, August 22nd 1999

**Summerslam**

 **August 22nd, 1999**

"You asked Chyna _not_ be involved in this interview. Why?" Jim Ross asked, looking confused as he reclined comfortably on a couch adjacent to Hunter.

"Why?" Hunter repeated the question as if it were something of an insult. "Everybody wants to know why. Why? You know what? Because this one is about me, J.R. It's not about Chyna, or anybody else. It's about four hours from now. It's about 11:00 PM tonight. It's about me getting out what I've always wanted in this business, and that is me becoming the WWF Champion."

"So you're saying tonight at Summerslam, in roughly four hours, you will be WWF Champion _without_ Chyna's help?" Ross questioned as Hunter's face began to grimace in utter annoyance.

"You're God damn right! I don't _need_ anybody else, J.R.," Hunter declared angrily. "This goes back to The Kliq. This goes back to New York City, Madison Square Garden. Me walking in the ring and saying goodbye to _my_ friends..."

He was interrupted by Ross which did not please him to say the least, "That's four years ago..."

"You're damn right it's four years ago," Hunter snapped at Ross, interrupting him in turn. "Every day it's eating a hole in my fucking stomach J.R.! Every single day!"

"Watch your language," J.R. urged, seemingly puzzled and frightened at Hunter's rage, especially so early on in the interview.

"What? You want me to shoot with this interview, I'm going to fucking shoot with it! I'm going to tell you how I feel whether you like it or not! It's about four years ago. Madison Square Garden, I walk to the ring to say goodbye to my friends: Kevin Nash, Scott Hall, Shawn Michaels."

Jim Ross looked on intently. He could tell that Hunter was far from finished, and if both of them wanted to attend the actual pay-per-view later in the evening, he needed to let Hunter continue letting off some steam.

"Who got punished for that J.R.?" he asked rhetorically. " _Me!_ I did. You know why? Cause you didn't have the balls! Nobody in the office had the balls to do that to anybody else! They did it to me. Why? Because I was the easy one. I was the one that would take it. Good old Triple H. He'll rise to the occasion later on. Don't worry about it. He'll come through. We can take care of that now. Punish him, get rid of that, he'll come back later."

Jim Ross began to adjust himself again in his seat growing more uncomfortable the more menacing Hunter's presence and tone became. He was an announcer, not a physician, but it looked to him like Hunter's face was so red with anger that he could burst a blood vessel at any second.

"Well you know what? That makes me _sick_ in my stomach! Every time I look at you guys it makes me _sick_ to think of what you did to me, holding me back. You guys talk about being students of the game? _I am the fucking game, J.R.!_ There is nobody that eats, sleeps, or breathes this business _more than me_! And now it's my time to prove that to the world. Summerslam is _my time_ to take what is mine and that is becoming the WWF Champion"

"You know Hunter," Ross remarked noting Hunter's pause as a sign he was a tiny bit calmer. "Summerslam is about a lot more than just you. It's about the WWF title. It's about Mankind and Stone Cold Steve Austin."

Hunter's temper exploded once, more not simply due to the fact that J.R. did not actually ask a question, but because of the names he mentioned. "To hell with Austin! To hell with The Rock! To hell with The Undertaker! I own all their asses! Mankind? I could care less! You want to promote Summerslam around them? Go right ahead. But when it's all said and done, Summerslam is about _me_! It's about nobody else, it's about _me_! It's about me getting what I deserve in this business and that is becoming the WWF Champion."

* * *

The WWF taped a show called Sunday Night Heat which aired an hour before every pay-per-view. It was usually a few matches, promo packages for ongoing feuds, and sometimes interviews. I was sitting in my office, busy with my work, with Heat on my monitor, but I hadn't bothered to watch anything on tonight's episode as Summerslam was my priority, specifically the main event. Near the end of the episode, I heard Jim Ross' annoying voice and was mere seconds away from getting up and muting the monitor before I heard who his guest for the evening was. The man who had thanked me two weeks earlier. The man who had smirked at me just six days earlier. The man I _kissed_ six days earlier. It didn't matter that it was only on the cheek, we'd both enjoyed the moment. J.R. was speaking to Hunter, who was wearing his signature Harley-Davidson leather cap, leather jacket, and blue jeans. It amused me how uncomfortable and frightened Hunter made J.R. as he talked about his frustrations in the company. Not surprisingly, Hunter's anger grew by the minute the more redundant J.R. became not really asking questions, but blatantly pushing his buttons. I could totally understand why Hunter showed bitterness to many of the people who helped to run the company, or had done in the past, other than myself of course.

Hunter didn't deserve to be treated the way he had been. And how dare Shawn Michaels, Hunter's _supposed friend_ not support him, but out of his own jealousy and insecurity at no longer being The Man, instead weasel his way into the WWF Commissioner position? "I would never hold you back from greatness, Hunter," I mumbled. I was the one in the office anyway, as the stooges, Test and Kenny were stuffing their faces in catering.

I instinctively leaned forward in my seat, closer to the monitor, when Hunter had raised his voice and almost yelled, "I am the fucking game, J.R.!" I don't know if it was what he said or the way he said it that made me tingle so much. It was serious. It was intense. It was sexy. Hunter was The Game and I was ready to play it. Very much like last week, I was about to get lost in my thoughts about the future that lay ahead of Hunter and I, when I was suddenly knocked back to the present. There was a live shot with Hunter walking through the arena pulling his luggage along behind him, taking occasional sips from a bottle of water. The heat interview had obviously been taped earlier. Leave it to Jim Ross to rush Hunter and request an interview on a night where Hunter needed all of his focus and concentration on his match. Damn him.

"Yes folks, Triple H is here. He is ready, and by God, is hell-bent on leaving Minnesota with the championship," I heard Ross saying, continuing to hype up the featured match of the evening.

"You forgot the most important thing J.R.! Not only is he here! Not only is he ready to be champion! He is 'The Game' J.R.," Lawler emphasized with obvious bias.

It was time to reassure my champion on the plans for the match, so I decided to go see him in his locker room.

A couple of minutes later I knocked on his door. _Breathe Steph,_ I thought to myself as I waited. _Inhale and Exhale_. _Please God, don't let him open the door seeing me do these ridiculous breathing exercises like I'm some kind of yoga instructor._

"Hey you," he replied with a smirk when he open the door and saw me. I certainly wasn't expecting that. I mean, I loved it, but it was almost as if he expected it to be me at the door _._ He no longer had on his blue jeans or leather cap, or jacket. He was now wearing black track pants and a dark crew neck t-shirt, tucked neatly inside his pants. His hair was now in a ponytail. In an effort to avoid his gaze, fearing I would blush, I began to scan his body. It was truly incredible how every part of his body was proportional. I knew most athletes, the great ones anyway, considered themselves gym rats. Hunter was no gym rat. He was an artist. Thankfully, he hadn't answered the door in a towel, dripping wet from a shower. I would've probably died on the spot. I certainly wouldn't have been able to deliver the message I had for him. Before he got the idea that this little visit was just an excuse for me to stalk him, my eyes finally met his. As his large hand clinched the top of the door frame his bicep flexed, almost teasing me to squeeze it.

"Hi," I smiled. "I know I'm probably not the person you want to see…" He cut me off.

"That's not true, Steph," he said. _That's like the fourth time he's called me Steph._ "A lot of people pissed me off. Mankind, Austin, Chyna, well at least your father is no longer around."

 _I couldn't agree more_ , I thought.

"Come in," Hunter said, gesturing into the locker room with his hand.

 _A warm reaction and an invitation to go inside? Oh my God_.

"Listen Hunter," I made sure to speak fractionally softer than usual. I was hoping he'd like that. "I'm not going to take too much of your valuable time. I came to reassure you that what I said two weeks ago is still valid. I've got you tonight."

Hunter crossed his massive arms on his chest looking intently at me. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked raising an eyebrow as he did so. It didn't look anything like as ridiculous as the way The Rock did it.

""I have your back. I know you're good enough to beat those clowns by yourself, like you said, but even so, I have your back," I said proudly, temporarily forgetting my infatuation with Hunter and getting back to business. "You're leaving here as the WWF Champion, one way or another."

"Damn straight I am!" Hunter shouted. _And there's that temper that I find incredibly hot._ "I've busted my ass too hard and for too long to be denied tonight!"

There was nothing more to say. I wasn't going to let him know any details of what I had in mind. I needed him to be focused on his own game plan, just in case shit hit the fan and he had to do it all on his own after all. I certainly didn't doubt his abilities, but for some reason, he seemed to be on the wrong side of luck as of late, with my plans for him being thwarted or disrupted and him loosing several matches to weaker opponents.

"Well, I'll leave you to your preparations," I said as I headed towards the door. He followed behind me, placing his huge hand against the door, essentially pinning me between his chest and forearm. I actually could feel his chest against my back and him breathe a little into the back of my neck. If anyone ever told me before that moment that inadvertent foreplay could be torturous, I would had never believed them. This was definitely torture.

"Why Steph?" Hunter spoke into my ear. He didn't try to whisper but given how I wasn't that much shorter than him with my heels on, that was the bitter-sweet position I was in.

"Because…" I faltered. I was getting lost in the smell of his cologne. I needed to figure out what scent it was and buy him a bottle as a gift. "You're not the only one who has become an enemy of Austin's." I said Stone Cold's name with as much of evil conviction as Hunter did earlier tonight with J.R.

"Well it's a good thing I have lady's luck then," Hunter said before backing away from me and opening the door.

I could certainly take the hint and left his locker room. A second or two longer in there with him and I would have to change my underwear for sure. I turned back to face him as I walked into the hallway. "I thought you said you didn't need luck?" I asked, wondering if this was him trying to impress me with his memory skills, or if he was flirting with me.

"I don't," Hunter quickly snapped. He then traced my chin line with his index finger. "But I love insurance policies." He winked at me as he finished the sentence.

I had gotten my answer. He was definitely flirting with me.

* * *

The main event had been fast paced and action packed so far. I had no idea how long it had been in progress for, but I had to give all three men credit because no quarter was being given or asked for. I was literally on the edge of my seat as I watched my monitor.

"All three men are bringing the action outside folks and it's all for the WWF Championship!" J.R. had just exclaimed. "Look at Austin and Triple H each taking turns smashing Mankind's skull into the steel steps. And now they're dragging him by our announce desk. Look out King."

"I'm perfectly fine," Lawler assured Ross. "They're laying it all on the line tonight. Oh no! Punch to the gut on Helmsley by Mankind! Head-butt by Mankind on Austin."

"Hunter rushes back to Mankind and Oh! Double-armed DDT on Helmsley! That's three times in three weeks!" Ross yelled. "Austin tries for a clothesline! Mankind ducks and mandible claw! It's the mandible claw as Mr. Socko catches Austin. The champion is down on the floor and fading away!"

To celebrate his achievement, Mankind walked over to the barricade near the fans and formed his fingers into the shape of a gun, shouting, "Bang-bang!"

"This is terrible, J.R.!" Lawler complained. "It's bad enough that we're this close to that smelly sock, but apparently Mankind invited Cactus Jack to join the match!"

Seeing both of his opponents recovering, Mankind charged toward them both at full speed, only to be caught by Hunter and Austin, who send him through the Spanish announce table with a double-flap jack face buster. Austin and Hunter both collapsed back to the floor.

"Again, all men are down!" shouted Ross. "What's it going to take for someone to win the damn title?"

A "This is Awesome!' chant broke out in the crowd. In the ring, referee Earl Hebner finally started his ten count. Hunter and Austin both managed to slide in the ring at seven, while Mankind remained outside, out cold. It was impossible to call a winner even if Mankind was counted out, with the other two men are already back in the ring and able to continue.

Hunter and Austin were now on their feet and were standing nose to nose, yelling what looked like obscenities at each other. "What's going on King?' Ross inquired. "Did Austin and Helmsley form an alliance to take Mankind out of the picture, so they can battle for the title between themselves?"

"I think they took out the trash," Lawler said, showing disdain for Mankind. "This is the cream of the crop here. Austin may not have the class of Helmsley, but he too, is a former King of the Ring Winner and Intercontinental champion. That idiot Mankind didn't belong in this match anyway."

"Oh Triple H with the waist lock on Austin," J.R. interrupted. "Could he spin him into the spine buster? No! Austin escaped from his grip, Stunner! Stunner! Stunner on The Game! But the referee got hit by Triple H's arm on the way down!" Austin crawled over to Hunter and hooked his leg. The crowd counted loudly, eventually giving up at five.

"Count all you want, there's no referee," Lawler said, clearly relieved by the fact.

Austin gave up and the cover and went over to try and get Hebner back in the action. Hunter started to recover and nailed Stone Cold with a spinning spine buster as he turned back around. Hunter rolled out of the ring and shouted at Howard Finkel, the WWF pay-per-view announcer, "Give me the damn title!" Finkel obliged him without any resistance. Suddenly, a tall man with short sandy coloured hair and a ten gallon cowboy hat marched to the ring with a menacing grimace on his face.

"Who the hell is that? What is he doing here?" Ross demanded. "Oh, he's going after Triple H who has the championship!"

"Where's security?" Lawler complained. "Who let him in the building? Whoever you are, Triple H has no issue with you. What are you doing?"

The man, unknown to everyone aside from me, was Mr. Layfield. And he had a job to do. He noticed that Austin was about to reach his feet when he tugged on the other end of the WWF Championship title with Hunter. Hunter was trying not to show it, but I could tell that he was confident that this was indeed _the plan_. The timing worked out perfectly, as at the very last possible second, Hunter released his grip on the belt and ducked as Layfield swung, nailing Austin square in the face. Hunter shoved JBL on his ass trying to sell the frustration of getting unwanted assistance. Again, it was perfect.

"No! It can't be," Ross cried out. "Helmsley raises Austin up, hooks both his arms. Pedigree. Damn it! The referee is recovering a crawling over there. One... Two... Three! Helmsley is the champion. I can't believe this, this crap!"

"Here is your winner, and new World Wrestling Federation Champion, The Game, Triple H!" Howard Finkel announced as Our Time, Hunter's theme music played. The title was now very poignant indeed.

"Wooo!" Lawler shouted like a school child. "He did it! The Game did it! I told you he'd do it, J.R.!"

After Hunter got the victory, Layfield had quickly vanished through the crowd. Earl Hebner was still a bit groggy from Hunter taking him out in the match as he handed the title belt over. Taking even me by surprise, Hunter took another cheap shot and nailed Hebner square in the jaw. The crowd erupted in boos as the music quickly faded out.

Next, Hunter slid out of the ring and grabbed Finkel's now empty steel chair. He returned to the ring with it, where Austin was still lying flat on his back, having not moved since taking the Pedigree. Quickly, Hunter removed both of the knee braces from Austin's legs. Showing the ruthless streak that I loved so much, Hunter began to hammer away at Austin's already weak knees. He was clearly intending to cripple him for good and finish their rivalry right then and there.

"What's he doing?" Ross yelped. "He already won the damn title! Why is he committing this heinous attack on Austin's surgically repaired knees? Damn you Helmsley! Damn you to hell!"

Jim Ross, who was a great friend of Stone Cold Steve Austin, was clearly livid of Hunter's attack, which I guessed was why Hunter slid out of the ring on his side on purpose to retrieve the only tag-team partner he loved more than The Kliq: The Sledgehammer. I wondered if maybe Hunter had heard J.R. shouting.

"You want some, fat man, huh?" Hunter shouted at J.R. who shook his head in fear.

Hunter re-entered the ring, staring at the sledgehammer intently for a few seconds as though he was in love with it, before raising it above his head repeatedly smashing Austin's knees. It was a brutal beating the likes of which I had never seen before, but still he wasn't finished. He dropped the sledgehammer in the middle of the ring and dragged Austin's battered legs to one of the turnbuckles before locking him into the figure four leg lock on the turnbuckle ring post.

I was no fan of Stone Cold by any means, but the sound of him screaming in pain shocked me. Like him or not, he was one of the toughest guys on the roster. Hunter kept the hold in for a full sixty seconds before releasing it. He climbed back in the ring, grabbed the sledgehammer with his right hand and championship title with the left. He raised his arms in the air before his theme music played again, and looked into the main camera, pouting his lips in a quick kissing motion that many wouldn't notice. He had obviously hoped that I would notice it, and of course I had.

"What the hell is his problem? What a no good, ruthless, sick, self-righteous son of a bitch!" Ross said angrily. It wasn't good enough that he won the championship? He had to possibly end a man's career too!"

"Whoah, whoah, whoah, J.R." Lawler began to defend Hunter. "That's called making a statement. All of you people doubted what Triple H was capable of. He's not just a champion, but The Game!"

"The Game, my ass! He's a sadistic bastard and one day he's going to get what's coming to him! Thank you for tuning into Summerslam, ladies and gentlemen. Goodnight!"

I couldn't have imagined a more excellent way to finish a pay-per-view if I had tried. Everything went according to plan. No Chyna. No Jericho. No Daddy. And Hunter was the champion, as I promised him, and as he deserved to be. That would teach Austin for making me the enemy. I'd had no idea that he had that little extra demolition job planned after the match, crushing both of Austin's knees. _Good job, baby_. I wasn't expecting it, but I'd loved every second of it. I imagined that Austin probably has one of those ACL/MCL injuries now, whatever they were called. It didn't really matter what the medical terminology was, he's out of our lives, hopefully forever, that was what mattered. I didn't miss Hunter kiss me through the camera either. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but I saw it. _I hear you Hunter, loud and clear. You are most certainly welcome_.

While I was extremely happy at this moment, I was reminded that Shawn Michaels had suddenly found himself a lot admiration for The Great One, The Rock, for some reason. He'd called me during one of the matches earlier on the card, stating that he'd booked the winner of tonight's championship match to defend the title in the main event of the WWF's debut episode of Thursday Night Smackdown! on UPN, which was now just days away, against The Rock. This was something I was not pleased about at all. It was most certainly something Hunter wouldn't be pleased to hear either. I'd have to figure out a way to get Michaels' grubby little hands away from my power and out of my company for good, but right now, it didn't matter. Hunter was the WWF champion. My Champion.

END


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